2003
by BunnyGoBoom
Summary: Spoiled teen Oliver Queen is roped into taking some pathetic geek to a dance. It's guaranteed to be totally lame, but it doesn't turn out like either of them expect.
1. 2003

**Let's be honest; there is a 99% chance that Felicity was a total dork in high school, and a 100% chance that Oliver was a spoiled little shit. **

Starling City, 2003

Robert Queen was a man of wealth and taste. He demanded the best of everything, and that included employees. The head of the I.T. Department had proven himself to be inadequate, inefficient, and far too inclined to obey his conscience, so Mr. Queen had him removed. Now he needed a replacement, someone worthy. The best man in that particular field was Asher Smoak. Not only was he a genius with computers, but he appeared to be rather mousy. That was good. Mr. Queen preferred employees he could intimidate.

His demeanor just before the interview proved even more promising; he fidgeted, wiped his brow, and needlessly adjusted his glasses while he waited outside Mr. Queen's office door. By the time Mr. Smoak was brought in, it seemed he would cry tears of gratitude when given the job.

"Very impressive résumé," Mr. Queen said with a genial smile. "Just the kind of man we need to run the I.T. Department."

"Um… Thank you, sir." he replied quietly, looking confused.

"You start Monday."

Mr. Smoak's eyebrows quirked up. "What?"

"You're the best man for the job. Who else do I need to interview?"

Perplexed, Mr. Smoak stared at him. "I wasn't told this was about a job; they just said you wanted to see me. Wait, how many others did you interview?"

Mr. Queen shrugged. "Just you. I told my people to find the most qualified man, and they did."

"But I already have a job, sir."

"Well, now you have a better one."

"I really enjoy teaching—"

"Smoak, your salary here will be triple what you already make."

Asher pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's not about the money. I like teaching."

Mr. Queen looked as if he couldn't comprehend what he said. "Don't you have a wife? A daughter? Wouldn't you like to make their lives more comfortable?"

"They don't complain." Mr. Smoak stood up, signaling that the interview was over. "I'm honored by the job offer, but I'm happy with my work. Thank you for your time."

Like most billionaires who always get what they want, Mr. Queen's hubris could not handle the polite decline. Also, the runners-up weren't nearly as competent.

"Name your price." he said as Mr. Smoak turned to leave.

"Sorry?" He was perplexed for a moment, but then he saw the wounded pride in Mr. Queen's eyes.

"Whatever reasonable thing it takes to get you to work here, ask. I won't have an incompetent idiot head my I.T. Department."

Asher Smoak was now very aware of how valuable he was. He suddenly had leverage; he could ask for a corner office, a cool company car, a long vacation in the tropics… but he was not that kind of man.

"Don't you have a seventeen-year-old son? Oliver, is it?"

Unsure where he was heading, he answered reluctantly. "Yes, what about him?"

"My daughter is only a year younger."

"That's nice."

"Her teenage years have been very hard on her. She has trouble making friends."

"Okay."

"Boys don't think much of her, either. Her school's Valentine's Day dance is tomorrow tonight, and no one asked her to go. She acts like she doesn't care, but I know she does."

Mr. Queen finally realized what he was getting at. "Are you saying you want my son to take your daughter to the dance?"

The mousy man smiled. "I think it would do wonders for her self-esteem to go to the dance with a handsome young man."

"I… doubt my son would agree to that."

"Well, it was nice talking to you, then." Mr. Smoak opened the office door.

"I'll speak to him," the billionaire blurted. "I'm sure they'll have fun together."

"That's great!" the computer genius said cheerfully. "In that case, I'll be here Monday."

Asher Smoak left with a skip in his step, making Mr. Queen feel all the more obligated to convince his shallow, spoiled son to go along with this.

The day went by quickly, blurred by Asher Smoak's happiness. He had done something wonderful for his awkward, unfortunate-looking little girl. It was possible that, after tomorrow night, she would no longer come home looking timid and miserable. If people saw her on the arm of Oliver Queen, they might start treating her differently. She might make friends and have people to sit with at lunch. And maybe she'd feel beautiful for once, if only for a night. Mr. Smoak thought that was worth giving up a job he loved.

He was brimming with barely-contained excitement at the dinner table. His wife, Judy, tossed him curious looks as she ate her mashed potatoes, knowing she'd have to be patient if she was going to find out what the deal was. Felicity, their daughter, didn't notice her father's behavior; she was still trying to forget the emotional torment she endured earlier that day.

"I have great news!" he exclaimed, no longer able to keep it to himself. "Flick, sweetie, you're going to the Valentine's Day dance tomorrow night!"

Brows furrowed, Felicity adjusted her large, thick glasses. "But, Dad, I was going to watch the new documentary on the History Channel. And, anyway, I don't have someone to go with."

"Oh, but you do!"

"Dad, I don't think you should go with me."

"I don't mean me."

"Is my cousin Kyle in town again? Because we don't get along—"

"Sweetie, I got you a date with Oliver Queen!"

The room got cricket-quiet. Then Judy finally spoke up.

"The son of the billionaire? What did you do, make a deal with the devil?" She glanced nervously at Felicity. "Not that our daughter couldn't get a date with him without making a pact with Satan—"

"Robert Queen really wants me to work at Queen Consolidated, and I really want my daughter to go the dance with his popular, handsome son. Simple as that."

"Oh, so the devil _was_ involved…" mumbled his wife.

"Uh…" Felicity was having trouble forming words, especially now that it seemed her father wasn't joking. "Oliver Queen?" She had seen him in pictures and on TV, and once at the mall. He was _gorgeous_. She was really going to the dance with him? As his _date_? He'd dance with her and get her punch and get her a corsage and tell people he was her date. And maybe, if she was lucky, he wouldn't look at her like she was a slug. He might even enjoy spending time with her.

The anxiety proved too much for poor Felicity. "I'm gonna throw up," She ran clumsily out of the room, hoping to make it to the toilet in time.

"It'll be fun, honey!" he father called after her. "The dance, I mean. Not the throwing up."

After her dinner was flushed and her teeth were brushed, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her frizzy, untamable blonde hair only allowed her to keep it in a ponytail. Her skin was covered in blemishes. Her glasses were large, round, and so thick they distorted her eyes. And then there were the braces… yikes. They just pulled her whole look together. Under her uncool clothes was a gangly body, all knobby joints and few curves. And that was just how she _looked_. She was socially awkward, shy, and weird.

_This _was going out with Oliver Queen? It was like she had woken up in some Bizarro world. It was going to be a disaster, wasn't it? He would hate every minute and feign illness so he could go home.

She wanted to tell her dad there was no way she'd do it, but she knew that he'd given up his teaching job for this. And he really loved his job. So how could she say no?

"Is she hot?" Oliver lounged on the couch, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted when watching _The Bourne Identity_. But his father making him go on a date with a mystery girl seemed important.

"Never seen her. Doesn't matter, anyway. You will be taking this girl to the dance as a favor to me."

"Where does she go to school?"

"Starling High School."

"Good. That means I probably won't run into her afterward."

Robert Queen rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's very fortunate."

"So, why am I doing this?"

"I want her father to work for me. This is what he asked for in return."

"Hmm,"

"You will pick her up at her house. I'll be going there with you to make sure you don't back out."

Oliver paused his movie. "Is that likely? Just how ugly is this girl?"

Mr. Queen shook his head, reluctant to answer. "Her father says that she has trouble making friends."

"That ugly? Forget it, then."

"All you have to do is take her to the dance. Surely you can stow your standards and ego for a few hours?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What do I get out of it?"

His father sighed. "The knowledge that you did something nice for someone."

"No, seriously,"

"A new car." Mr. Queen said, crossing his arms. "A BMW."

"A Ferrari."

"An Aston Martin. Take it or leave it."

"Ugh! Fine! I'll be a hero." he groaned as he turned the movie back on.

Felicity tried to remain very still while her mom did her makeup. Even though every fiber of her being was screaming that this would only end in disaster, she kept her mouth shut. Her parents were so excited for her. Never mind the circumstances; their daughter had a date with a boy.

Even though her dad was getting a new, well-paying job, they still had to be frugal. Like, really frugal. Her mother had taken her to a consignment shop that sunny Saturday morning, and they spent half the day looking for a dress, shoes, and jewelry. What she ended up with was a "retro" dress, very 80's. And not the good part of the 80's, either, like Madonna or legwarmers. It was a knee-length floral print monstrosity with ruffles, but it was the prettiest dress that fit her properly. The shoes were plain white pumps, boring but not horrible. The purse was a little white clutch that she thought was cute, if not a little dated. She did like her simple rhinestone earrings, though, and her silver-star necklace and silver bangles were fun.

Felicity kept telling herself not to judge Oliver by his press coverage. He was apparently pretty wild, but that didn't mean he'd be mean to her, did it?

It was 5:45, and he'd arrive any minute. She spent that time looking at herself in the mirror; checking her braces, her makeup and hair. Her mom was able to hide some of the pimples and even out her skin tone. Her hair was only slightly better behaved, since her mom used half a can of hairspray on it. It was still frizzy and in a ponytail, but it looked better than usual. And her mom used a hair tie with a flower attached.

She actually felt kind of pretty for once.

Oliver walked to the front door, dreading what hideous beast was waiting for him. His father strode beside him, ready to scold him if he tried to run away.

"Tommy told me this morning that he was going to the same dance with some girl named Veronica."

"I'm sure it will be good to have someone you know there."

"Really? I just thought it would further my humiliation to have my best friend see me with a hyena in a dress. But I guess there's that."

"You better be nice to this girl, Oliver."

"Yeah, whatever. I'll grin and bear it." He pasted on a fake smile. "For the Aston Martin, obviously."

A nervous, sweet-faced blonde in her late thirties answered the door. "Hi, I'm Judy! Mr. Queen, it's so lovely to meet you!"

"Likewise," he replied. "This is my son, Oliver."

"Oh, yes! I've seen him in the tabloids! Um, not that I assume he's a reckless, spoiled brat—"

Asher came to her rescue. "Mr. Queen, Oliver, thank you for coming." The Queens stepped through the front door.

"Happy to be here, Mr. Smoak," said Oliver, barely containing his annoyance. "I can't wait to meet Felicity."

Asher beamed. "She has been so excited since she found out!"

"She even threw up when he told her!" his wife added.

The Smoaks exchanged a glance, then Judy announced that she was going to get the camera before hurrying down the hall.

"Felicity!" her father called. "There's a young man here for you!"

Oliver held his breath, fearing the worst. He envisioned a pimply hippopotamus in a tacky dress. He was only two-thirds right.

Felicity slowly descended the stairs, trying not to trip in her heels. When she made it all the way down, Oliver tried not to scream. He had to take this gawky dork to the dance? Granted, she wasn't quite as bad as he anticipated, but he was still so hilariously out of her league. Just giving her a ride to the dance would be the most philanthropic thing he'd ever done.

"Hi," she squeaked, avoiding eye-contact with him.

Robert nudged his son, and Oliver reluctantly stepped forward. "Hi, Felicity. You look beautiful."

She smiled bashfully, and he thought it was almost cute. He wasn't thrilled to see she had braces, though.

Just then, Mrs. Smoak came back with the camera. "I need pictures before you go! Oh, you two look lovely together!"

She motioned for Oliver to stand next to Felicity; he did, keeping a foot and a half between them. Judy kept motioning, and eventually he had his arm around her, trying not to look revolted. She did smell good, and that's what kept him from looking completely miserable as the camera flashed. As soon as it was over, he dropped his arm and subtly backed away.

He got the door for her, like a gentleman, and gave his dad a dirty look before following her out to his Porsche.

The ride there was very quiet, and Oliver was grateful for that. He was able to listen to "Get This Party Started" and pretend she wasn't there. Maybe he could ditch her at the dance and she wouldn't make a fuss. After all, he'd walk in there with her, and that was pretty generous of him.

The dance was held in the gym, which was lame. They did a good job decorating, though, so it wasn't completely awful. And he noticed a lot of hot girls, too.

"Dude!" It was Tommy Merlyn, looking a little tipsy already. "I didn't know you were gonna be here!" He pointed to the knockout in a red dress standing next him. "This is Veronica." Then he spotted Felicity at Oliver's side, casually looking around the room. "Um, are you lost?"

Felicity looked at him nervously. Oliver swooped in and rescued her. "This is Felicity, my… date."

She glowed at the introduction, her cheeks growing red.

"Hey, why don't you go get us some punch?" asked Oliver.

"Okay," And she happily scurried off.

"What in the _hell_ is that thing?" said Tommy, watching her leave. "Are you trying to win a bet?"

"My dad made me take her. He promised me an Aston Martin."

"You deserve one after being seen with that!" He and Veronica laughed, and Oliver joined in.

"At least she's quiet," joked Oliver. "It's bad enough that she looks like that without adding a motor mouth."

"Or an extra hundred pounds!"

"Although that might be an improvement; if you touch her, you'd probably get a paper cut."

"Or a disease!" Tommy added with a chuckle.

Their laughter died down when they noticed Felicity coming back. She handed Oliver a glass, which he downed quickly.

"Hey, why don't you go wait on the bleachers?" he suggested.

"Um," She bit her lip. "Or I could just stand here—"

"No, really," he coaxed. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Then we'll go dance."

Dancing with Oliver Queen…

"Sure, that's cool." she said, trying to casual. Felicity obediently walked over to the bleachers and took a seat near the bottom. It was kind of fun to watch all the couples dance, but it got old after twenty minutes. She looked over at Oliver and his friends, and it didn't seem like he was trying to get away. Felicity fidgeted with her clutch purse. He wasn't going to dance with her, was he? But maybe that wasn't so bad. She was clumsy, anyway. And he was nice enough to take her and admit she was his date. So she kept quiet and continued to sit on the bleachers.

Then she noticed Karla Connors sashaying towards Oliver. She was the super-popular head cheerleader that thoroughly enjoyed making Felicity's life a living hell. At first she was afraid Karla would go after Oliver, but she remembered her having a boyfriend… who was looking awfully dejected by the punch bowl.

No.

No!

_Not her! Please, not her! _Felicity couldn't bear the thought of her date being stolen by her archenemy. But there it was, happening right in front of her. Karla was smiling and batting her eyelashes and Oliver really seemed to enjoy it.

Felicity could handle being ditched on the bleachers for the rest of the night, or even watching Oliver dance with other girls; but no way could she stomach watching him flirt with Karla Connors.

Driven by impulse, she sprung from the bleachers and hurried over to her date.

"Hey, Oliver," she said, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around and looked at her as if he'd almost forgotten about her. "I know you said you'd be a few minutes, but it's been half an hour. I was hoping we could dance now?" She stared up at him expectantly, investing hope in the power of guilt.

Karla snorted. "Seriously? How deluded are you?"

Felicity's stomach turned as she faced Karla. "He's my date."

"That's the most pathetic lie I've ever heard!" she replied, laughing. "Oliver just told me he tagged along with his friends."

The poor girl blanched and glanced at her supposed date, who refused to make eye contact.

"Oliver?" she pleaded gently. He backed away like there was something wrong with her.

Too afraid to even see Karla's reaction, Felicity fled the room.

Karla Connors felt dizzy with dominance. She had once again crushed the ugly nerd girl, and now she was dancing with Oliver Queen.

"She's always been a weirdo, but I've never heard her tell a lie that big before. So sad."

"Yeah," replied Oliver, looking uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I mean the arrogance of her claiming you were her date…"

"Mm-hmm."

By the time the song ended, Karla looked like she had an idea.

"Hey, I'll catch you later, okay? Fifteen minutes, tops."

Oliver nodded and went back over to Tommy and Veronica, who had finished dancing.

This was bullshit. Felicity could be at home right now watching the History Channel, but instead she was stuck in this nightmare. It figured; she went to a ball with a handsome prince, only to find that he was a selfish beast. Going to the dance with Oliver Queen had only made things worse for her. She would be mocked for this for the rest of high school, and Karla would be right there leading the choir.

She sat in a dim, far-off hallway, lighted only by the outside lights. It was isolated and an unlikely place to be found. And she really didn't want to be found; Felicity had been crying her eyes out for the past five minutes. What would she tell her parents? Did she really want to see the looks on their faces? And how was she going to get home now? Oliver sure wasn't going to take her.

As she wondered about the city bus schedule, she heard the click-click of heels and the rustling of dresses coming down the hall. Felicity immediately stood up and started walking away, but a voice called out to her.

"Hey, Felicity!" Behind her were the Insufferable Six: Karla and her Heathers. She panicked for a second, then wondered why they were smiling so kindly. She stopped and waited as they walked towards her.

"We're so sorry you got embarrassed in front of the whole school!" said Heather One, otherwise known as Miranda Samuels. "That was way harsh."

Was that… an apology?

"And who can blame you?" said Regina Jeffries. "I mean, he _is_ Oliver Queen. It was worth a shot, right?"

"Umm… Right." Might as well go along with it. They'd never believe the truth.

Jenna Michaels gave her a sympathetic smile. "It wouldn't have killed him to humor you." She squinted at Felicity in the dim light. "Oh, no! Your makeup!"

"It's fine," Felicity said. "I'm just going to go home now, anyway."

"You should let us help fix your makeup," suggested Katya Collins. "It's the least we can do."

Stupefied, Felicity stared at them for a long second. They seemed genuinely sorry, however hard it was to believe. Smiling weakly, she handed her purse to Katya. She pulled out the tube of lipstick, an oddly bright pink that worked for Felicity very well.

"Hold very still," warned Katya. She applied it expertly, careful to cover only her lips. Then she was done, and Felicity grinned at her warmly.

But the heartfelt moment didn't last. As Katya stood in front of her holding the lipstick, a wicked gleam glinted in her eye. The other girls were smirking, and suddenly Felicity's skin was crawling.

The lipstick smeared across her cheek, making Felicity gasp.

"Oops," Katya said with a mocking pout. The girls giggled maliciously.

Felicity moved to run, but Katya yanked her back. Then all the girls were holding on to her, keeping her in place as Katya continued to slash at her. Their laughter grew with every streak of pink lipstick. Felicity yelped and begged for them to stop, but they refused. They yelled at her, something about reminding her of her place. She only caught the gist, since they were talking at the same time. Miranda tore her sleeves and the ruffles of her skirt. Regina ripped off her necklace. Jenna yanked out her ponytail-holder. Cynthia Adams pulled off her bangles and tossed them down the hall, the sound of them scattering like the ringing of tiny bells. Then Karla pushed her to the floor and her friends helped pin Felicity down as she wrote "LOSER" on her forehead.

Oliver sat at a table with Tommy and Veronica, trying to focus on their conversation. But his mind continued to drift to that dorky girl who ran off. Tommy had told him it was for the best; people would've found a way to mock her even if Oliver had danced with her. True as that was, it didn't make him feel better. Guilt was not a familiar feeling, and it was hitting him hard. He tried every way he could to place the blame on someone else, but the fact remained that he had lied. The look on Felicity's face… She had looked so alone, so hurt. He winced at the memory and tried to dull the pain by telling himself the whole thing was a stupid idea. Unfortunately, the tactic backfired. Suddenly he was being pummeled with the truth; this all went wrong because Oliver was superficial, selfish, and spineless. He could've stood up for her. He could've done _something…_

The sound of girlish laughter caught his attention. Karla and her friends had come back, and they looked very pleased with themselves. They seemed to be sharing some hilarious inside joke.

Karla sauntered up to Oliver and offered him her hand. "How about another dance?"

Hoping it would serve as a better distraction, he stood up and took it. As she pulled him to the floor, he spotted a strange smear on the back of her forearm. Was it… paint? It was hard to tell in the dimly-lit gymnasium. He stopped and she looked back at him.

"What's on your arm?"

She let go of his hand and examined the smear. He found her smirk unsettling. "I had a mishap with some lipstick. Guess I missed a spot when I was washing up."

"Doesn't match the color you're wearing." he replied, gesturing to her dark red lips.

She looked like the cat that ate the canary. "It wasn't _my_ lipstick. It was a friend's. It's really not important."

Oliver swallowed hard when he realized the shade matched the one Felicity was wearing. "Where'd you go?"

Karla shrugged. "The girls and I went to freshen up."

"Where's Felicity?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me? Why would you care?"

Oliver felt his face heat up. "What did you do?"

Momentarily perplexed by his concern, she stared at him. Then she rolled her eyes. "Okay, so we messed with her a bit. She needed to learn her place. That loser deserved it. Lying about being your date—"

"What did you do?" he asked again, his voice deeper.

She scoffed, baffled by his anger. "We gave her a makeover then tied her to the field goal. So what?"

He gawked at her in horror. "You _what_?"

"That ponytail holder looks way prettier biting into her wrists than it did in her awful frizzy hair."

Oliver was moving towards the door before he even decided to leave. Karla stepped in front of him.

"Where are you going?" she asked, incredulous.

Impatient and appalled, he glared at her. "Get out of my way."

Her expression became an insulted scowl. "Are you honestly picking that geek over me?"

"Honestly, I'm pretty sure you're a sociopath." he replied with calm anger. "Felicity may be a geek, but at least she's not a crazy bitch like you."

He stormed past her and ran through the school, finding his way to the football field.

The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees, and the wind had picked up. Even in his suit jacket, he felt uncomfortably cold moments after stepping outside. He trotted across the grass and past the bleachers, the icy air slowing him down with every painful inhale. When the whole field was in sight, he looked from one end to the other.

It was the goal post to his right.

"Felicity!" he shouted as he hurried towards her. She did not lift her head. She didn't move at all.

When he finally reached her, he understood why. Her arms were stretched out behind her, nearly parallel to the ground. The flowered ponytail holder bound her wrists, forcing her arms around the freezing, too-wide pole. It must've hurt like hell, and the restraint was definitely cutting off circulation; her hands were disturbingly purple. Oliver looked at Felicity's bowed head, her face hidden by a mass of big frizzy hair. She was sobbing silently and shivering.

As Oliver tugged at the relentless hair accessory, he noticed the multiple streaks of lipstick on her arms and dress, the torn fabric, and the missing bangles. He bit his lip, trying to concentrate. She was already in enough pain, but it was hard to be gentle with this damn hair scrunchy. At last he removed it and tossed it on the ground, overstretched and ruined.

She moved stiffly as she lowered her arms and attempted to bend her fingers. How long had she been out here?  
"Felicity?" he said gently as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. Her skin felt like ice. She didn't answer, or even look at him. Her legs gave out and she fell to the ground and sobbed harder. He sat down next to her and pulled her close, hugging her and rubbing her arms. After a few moments he stopped to examine her wrists. Frowning, he took her frozen fists in his and blew on them. He really wanted her to stop shaking.

"Felicity?" he asked again quietly. Her head was still bowed, her hair obscuring her face. She was still sobbing, too, but not as loud as before. Slowly, he reached for her chin and tilted it up.

Black rivers of mascara ran down her cheeks. The tears and the cold had caused something else to run, which he politely ignored. Swipes of bright pink lipstick streaked her face. There was even some on the lenses of her glasses. The lipstick on her lips was badly smudged. Worst of all was the word "LOSER" written across her forehead.

Shaking his head in dismay, he pulled the pocket square from his jacket and handed it to her. Still refusing to make eye contact, she accepted it reluctantly. As she wiped at her nose, Oliver slipped off his tie and used it to erase the letters on her forehead.

"It's freezing out here. We should go." he said after scrubbing the lipstick and mascara off her face with his tie. Oliver helped her up and tossed his tie and pocket square in the grass. He saw her look back at them as they left the field.

"Don't worry about it," he assured. "I can buy more."

The car ride was significantly less comfortable than the previous one. Felicity sat quietly in the passenger seat, the too-long sleeves of his jacket hiding her hands. Oliver stared ahead, grateful for her silence.

Reality was setting in as the heat of the moment passed. Did Oliver really just do… uh, what he just did? He felt awkward knowing he had shown such tenderness to this nerd he barely knew. He couldn't remember ever being that tender to someone; someone other than his sister, anyway. Guilt makes you do crazy things.

Slowly, the old Ollie was coming back, egotistical and selfish as ever. Even though no one had seen them, Oliver felt embarrassed. Him holding a girl like Felicity… he cringed at the thought. What if someone had seen them and gotten the wrong idea?

"You should've stayed on the bleachers." Oliver said admonishingly, keeping his eyes on the road.

Felicity glanced at him in gentle accusation but said nothing. He felt her eyes on him, and it made him angrier.

"And where the hell is your purse? Didn't you have a purse?"

"Cynthia threw it in the trash." Her voice was hollow.

"That bitch." Oliver spat. "You shouldn't have gone off by yourself, you know." He smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "Damn it, Felicity, why couldn't you just stay quiet? You're so good at it. If you had just stayed on the bleachers—"

"I didn't want to see you dance with her." she blurted, staring at her lap. "You were supposed to be _my_ date. Why were you making me wait so long? You said you were going to dance with me."

Oliver didn't have an answer. Not a good one, anyway. His hands wrung the wheel as he searched for something to say.

"Thanks for saving me," she said.

"I didn't save you," Oliver snapped.

"Yes, you did."

"Whatever."

Felicity was making him feel worse. She should be yelling at him and calling him a narcissistic jerk. Her kindness was only reminding him that he was responsible for the pain of such a good person. She was so nice and gentle and forgiving that it made him want to throw up. Worse still was that her personality was making her look pretty. Well, prettier, actually. When he was wiping the makeup off her face, he had noticed her gray-green eyes, cute nose, and full lips. The memory made him blush.

"I only did this because my dad promised me an Aston Martin." Oliver stated, willing her to hate him.

"An Aston Martin?" she asked, glancing at him meekly.

"Yep," he confirmed with a nod.

She offered him a small smile. "Maybe if it were a Ferrari, you would've behaved better."

Surprised by her wit, he laughed. "Yeah, maybe,"

Oliver's heart dropped into his stomach as he parked the car in her driveway. Felicity was still a mess, and her parents were sure to wonder what had happened.

At least he had the balls to walk her to the door. Well, to the porch. Close enough, right? When she noticed him stop just before the top step, she began to shrug off his jacket.

"Keep it," he said, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You got lipstick all over it and I can buy another one."

She gave him a warm smile that made him feel weird. It was a good weird, though. Then she suddenly hugged him. Being a step above Oliver made it easy to wrap her arms around his neck, and she did so with affection. Oliver stood there, stunned. He was being embraced by this scrawny, frizzy-haired dork, and he found that he didn't mind at all. Momentarily discarding his vanity, he hugged her back.

They parted when they heard the door open. It was Mr. Smoak. For a split second he looked horrified by Felicity's state, but then he hid it with a smile that matched his daughter's.

"Did you have a good time, sweetie?"

She nodded, almost giddy.

"Mom's making hot cocoa. Go inside and get warm, okay?" he said in that same sugary voice. She obeyed, smiling once more at Oliver as she crossed the threshold.

After Mr. Smoak closed the door behind her, he glared at Oliver. "No cocoa for you, young man." he said in a low, livid voice. Gone was the mousy man his father had told him about; in his place stood a lion.

Oliver gaped at him, unnerved by the sudden change. "Umm…"

Asher Smoak walked a few steps closer, emphasizing their difference in height. Mr. Smoak was even shorter than Felicity. But it didn't matter now; his quiet rage made him seem ten feet tall.

"What did you _do_?"

Oliver gulped. "I… she went off by herself—"

"Don't lie to me, you spoiled brat," he snarled. "What did you do to my baby girl?"

Ashamed, he hung his head. "I lied and told people she wasn't my date. So she ran off and… these girls, they—"

"Tell your father that I'll work for him," he said, his voice even. Oliver met his eyes and saw only restrained fury. "So long as he keeps you the hell away from my daughter."

The ultimatum hurt more than it should have. Before he could ponder why that was, Mr. Smoak was shooing him away.

"Go!" he barked, and Oliver hurried down the steps to his car.

Felicity's mother had fussed over her worriedly when she entered the kitchen, but she had managed to calm her. A few minutes later, her dad had come in acting like everything was fine, and Mrs. Smoak had stopped her fretting.

Now Felicity sat huddled in her pink hang-a-round chair, savoring her cocoa. Her room hummed with the sound of her computers, and she found it calming. Hugging Oliver Queen had made her heart pitter-pat something fierce, and the feeling was taking a while to wear off.

Oliver Queen was worse and better than she'd expected, and she couldn't wait to tell Kermit all about it after she finished her cocoa. Kermit was her pac-man frog, and he was a great listener.

Setting her empty mug on her desk, she kneeled down in front of his tank.

"Kermit, guess what! I hugged Oliver Queen! Don't look at me like that; it was just a hug. Oh, wait, I should probably explain why I look like this. Okay, so, Oliver's a jerk, and he lied to Karla and said I wasn't his date. It was _mortifying_. And the Insufferable Six ganged up on me and tied me to the goal post. It's really cold outside, too! But then…" She smiled brightly. "Oliver _saved _me. And he gave me his coat to keep me warm." She flopped the oversized sleeves at him. "See? He even let me keep it!" Beaming, she folded her hands over her chest. "Do you think it means anything?"

Kermit sat there, looking strangely wise despite his complete ignorance.

"It's not like I think he wants to date me or anything," she admitted with a blush. "But it's a nice thought, isn't it?"


	2. April

Oliver drove through the Starling High School parking lot, finally finding an empty spot between a silver SUV and a bright blue sedan. "Keep Fishin'" by Weezer was playing on the radio when he reluctantly turned the car off and noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

To his right was a girl opening the back door of the blue sedan. Her blonde ponytail swept over her shoulder as she swung her backpack into the seat. When she straightened up, she took a moment to adjust her glasses before closing the door.

Felicity! His heart went _wa-BUMP_ in his chest at the sight of her, even though her overalls were hideous. Her hair seemed tamer in its ponytail, and she actually looked kind of—

Wait, what was going on? What was he _thinking_? Why should he care how she looked, and why was he even staring at her through the tinted window of the passenger door?

And why did he hate that she was about to leave?

"Hey!" he called as he rolled the window down, startling her as she opened the front door of her car. She turned quickly, and her jaw dropped at the sight of him.

Why did he do that? He should've ignored her!

"Hi," he said, feeling incredibly awkward.

"Um, hi…"She had to lean over a bit to see into the car, so her glasses were slipping again. As she pushed them up the bridge of her nose, he realized they looked different.

"Were your glasses always purple?"

"My… my other ones broke."

_Broke? Broke how? Who broke them? Was it that bitch and her friends? _Not that he should care, since he shouldn't even be talking to Felicity. Like, at all. Her dad had been very adamant about that.

"Get in," Oliver insisted, patting the seat next to him.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"I want to talk to you."

Felicity blushed, and he tried to suppress his smile. Eventually she nodded and slid into the passenger seat.

They were both uncomfortably silent for a second while Oliver rolled up the window. Then Felicity spoke. "I didn't recognize your car. What kind is it?"

He knew it was her polite way of asking if this was the car he was promised for taking her to the dance. Nervously, his fingers drummed on the steering wheel. "Nope. This is my dad's Bugatti Veyron. He doesn't drive it very much, so he lets me borrow it sometimes."

"It's really cool," She gave him a small smile. "I bet Laurel will like it."

The mention of her made him uncomfortable, even though she was the reason he was here in the first place. He met her a few weeks ago at the mall, and he was thrilled to find a girl as nice as she was beautiful. Karla had ruined his tolerance for hotties with bad personalities.

"She's been in it before," he answered, strangely keen to change the subject.

"Laurel's really nice, even for a cheerleader." Oliver wondered why Felicity didn't look jealous. "Practice is going on now. That's why you're here, right? To watch her? And take her on a date afterwards, I bet. The whole school's been talking about you two since the Insufferable—uh, since Karla and her friends saw the two of you at the movies together. I was really happy to hear that you were dating her. She's not mean like the other cheerleaders, and she gets good grades and is captain of the debate team. She even stood up for me when Karla…" Felicity blinked, clearly regretted her mention of the mean girl. "Everyone's saying how cool it'd be if you went to prom with Laurel. It'd be junior prom—you know, since she's a junior like me—but she might be prom queen and… why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"

Oliver hadn't realized he'd been watching at her. He shook his head. "I just had no idea you could talk that much."

Felicity bit her lip. "Sorry, I was babbling, wasn't I?"

"What did Karla do?"

She lowered her eyes. "What she always does. It's not a big deal."

"Did she break your glasses?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"When will you get your car?" she responded, changing the subject. "An Aston Martin, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "My dad said I have to wait until my birthday in May."

"That's not too far off. Will you get it before prom?"

"I think so. My birthday's on the sixteenth."

"Prom's on the twenty-somethingth."

"Good."

There was a moment of awkward silence that neither was brave enough to break until Oliver decided to speak again. "Your parent's came over for dinner at the mansion in March. They said you were sick."

They both knew the real reason she hadn't come, but neither wanted to address it. "It was the flu or something. I think that was going around. Laurel had it the night of the dance, which is why she wasn't there. But she probably told you that already. Too bad you couldn't have met her at the dance, huh? That would've been romantic. Hey, shouldn't you be going? She's probably waiting for you."

On the football field where Oliver found Felicity bound to a freezing goal post. He bit the inside of his cheek. "How have you been?"

"Me? Oh, well my dad got me a new car"—she gestured to the blue car to her right—"even though my mom said he shouldn't because she worries about me getting spoiled. It's a 2003 Mazda Protégé. I call it the blueberrymobile. I'm a timid driver so I worry about wrecking it since it's new, but at least it's not really expensive."

"I asked how you've been, not about your new car."

She blinked. "Oh… I've been fine."

Oliver laughed humorlessly. "Come on, Felicity. We both know I screwed you over. Laurel told me she heard that you lied about being my date at the dance, and like a coward I didn't correct her. She told me that everyone mocked you the following Monday and called you a liar. You spent two whole class periods trapped in your own locker before Laurel got you out. I don't even want to mention what she said happened at lunch. And I know about the time Laurel stood up for you. Karla said you were—"

"I know what Karla said!" Felicity asserted, her voice breaking. "I don't need to be reminded. And yes, you screwed me over, but I'm trying really hard to forget about that."

Oliver swallowed hard. "I've been worried about you."

"Are you sure?" He wished she was angry instead of giving him that sad look. "And why would Oliver Queen be worried about me?"

"Because I care about you," he admitted in a small voice.

Felicity shook her head. "No, you don't. You just feel guilty. You just want to pay the fine and make the guilt go away, but you don't know how. If you really did care about me, you would've told Laurel the truth."

Oliver couldn't look her in the eye. "I didn't want her to hate me."

Felicity sighed. "I know,"

The _click_ of the car door opening made him reach for her arm. "Wait,"

She paused, wondering what he had to say.

"I'm sorry," he said, staring at the steering wheel.

Her plastic purple glasses were sliding down her nose again, and she pushed them up after closing the car door. "For what?" Felicity asked in a small voice.

"For all of it," he answered, still avoiding eye contact. "For everything. For thinking you were ugly. For making fun of you. For ditching you. For not dancing with you. For not defending you. For lying. For not running after you. For not apologizing when I knew it was my fault. For being embarrassed by you. For being an asshole."

Felicity knew it took him a lot of courage to admit that much, and every sentence seemed to pain him. His confession to her wouldn't change anything for her at school, but it did make her feel better. Impulsively, she closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek…

And he turned at the last second to see what she was doing. They sat there for a full second before either of them comprehended that their lips were touching. Felicity pulled away, eyes as wide as Oliver's.

"Oh…" she gasped, cheeks reddening. "I… That… that was an accident. I meant to kiss your cheek!" Oliver only blinked at her. "I promise! I promise I didn't… Laurel! I can't believe I did that to Laurel! I didn't mean to! I shouldn't have… I'm so sorry!"

Oliver couldn't help smiling. Her panicked flailing and anxious rambling was really entertaining.

"Don't tell anyone, please? That was so bad… What's so funny?"

His laughter quieted to a chuckle at her serious expression. "Felicity, if no one believed I was your date for a dance, who'd believe I was your first kiss?"

"You…" She gaped at him, realizing the truth. "_My first kiss was with Oliver Queen!"_ she stated in amazement and possibly horror as she sank low in her seat. "Holy crap!" Felicity squeaked, her hands hiding her face.

This only made Oliver laugh loudly again. "Your first kiss was with Oliver Queen in his dad's Bugatti Veyron. No one will ever believe you."

"No it wasn't because it doesn't count."

"It counts."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

"Does not,"

"Does to,"

"I'm an awful person."

"Felicity, it was an accident."

She smiled triumphantly. "Which _means _it doesn't count!"

"Fine, then." he replied with a smirk. "We'll just have to do it again." Oliver stated as he leaned in.

Felicity moved back so fast that she hit her head on the window. Following that was her attempt to get out of the car, which was the most impressive display of spaziness Oliver had ever seen.

"I was kidding!" he said, smiling. "Where are you going?"

"Home," she answered, her hand on the open car door. "And it doesn't matter if you were kidding! I can't handle being in this car anymore with you and your stupid, pretty face! You're gonna get me in trouble—"

"I'm hurt that you would think that," He looked at her with feigned innocence. Then he gave her his cockiest grin. "But then again, my middle name _is_ trouble… Well, actually it's Jonas—"

"Laurel will be wondering where you are."

"And if she asks, I'll tell her I've been kissing you."

That got a giggle from her. "You wouldn't!"

"I would." he insisted. "I'll admit that we made out passionately in the front seat."

Her smile was cute in spite of her braces. "You're full of it,"

"Hey, we can make it true—"

"Okay, now it sounds like you're mocking me." Felicity put one foot out on the asphalt. "It was nice talking to you, Oliver."

"Nice making out with you, Felicity," he responded, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Jerk."

"Nerd."

"Bye, Oliver,"

"Bye,"

Oliver watched her shut the door and climb into her own car, all the while wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Why didn't he mind talking to her, and why did he allow the conversation to go on so long? He had a hot girlfriend waiting for him, and he had wasted time with that skinny dork. Worse than that, it didn't feel like a waste. It felt like he'd been looking forward to seeing her, which was completely ridiculous. And that kiss! That stupid, accidental kiss! How could he let that happen?

And why had he liked it so much?


	3. The 24th

The dance committee had put a lot of work into junior prom, at least compared to the effort they put into the dance back in February. The ballroom of the Bennett Hotel was decorated in white, blue and silver, the ceiling covered in constellations to go with the "Starry Night" theme. The evening was well under way by the time Oliver and Laurel arrived. Teenagers and chaperones alike crowded the dance floor, each moving with varying degrees of rhythm and coordination to Apollo 440's "Stop the Rock."

Laurel was definitely the hottest girl in the room. Her hair was piled in an elegant updo and her dark blue, floor-length gown showed off her curves. Actually, she could've shown up in sweats and a messy bun and _still_ beat all these bitches. Hands down, she was the most beautiful woman Oliver had ever met, and her great personality made her even prettier.

After leaving her purse on one of the tables, Laurel led Oliver to the dance floor, where he did his best to not look like an uncoordinated dork; swaying back and forth to a slow song was easy, but real dancing was not one of his talents.

Eventually he caught her looking curiously over at one of the tables.

"Wow," she mouthed in surprise, smiling. Then she waved at whoever she was looking at. Oliver followed her line of sight and noticed a girl sitting alone, her purse in her lap. Her blonde hair was in soft curls, framing her pretty face. The emerald green of her dress complemented—

Woah woah woah. Hold up. That… Nah, that wasn't her. Couldn't be. Like she'd brave another dance after that last one ended in disaster.

"Who are you waving to?" Oliver asked, fighting to be heard over the music.

"Remember that girl who said you were her date?"

"Felicia Something?"

"Felicity Smoak. I'm so happy she came!" Laurel smiled in her direction again. "Doesn't she look pretty?"

"Who did she come with?"

Laurel shrugged. "I guess she's here by herself."

"Big surprise,"

"Hey, be nice," She put her hand on his arm. "I told you what's been going on with her at school."

"Then why is she here? Shouldn't she be avoiding these people when she can?" If Karla and her henchmen attacked her again…

"It's prom, Ollie! Nobody skips prom if they can help it."

"Even if it means sitting alone all night?"

Laurel crossed her arms and thought for a moment. Then she grinned. "She won't have to. Not the _whole_ night."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I think it'd be really sweet if you danced with her."

"_What?!_"

"Just one song! Please? I'm sure it'd mean a lot to her. Ollie, she's such a nice girl and she doesn't deserve all this crap they've been putting her through. Even if she did lie, I'm sure it was because she felt lonely—"

"Fine!" He raised his hands in defeat. "If it means that much to you, I'll go dance with her."

Beaming, Laurel kissed his cheek. "Thank you! I'll dance with my friends until you get back."

Oliver looked reluctant as he walked to Felicity's table, but he was celebrating on the inside. He was ecstatic when Laurel made the suggestion, but he knew he couldn't seem too eager. Because he really shouldn't be eager. It was Felicity, and she wasn't the kind of girl a guy like him should be eager to dance with. Yet his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing as he approached her. She could turn him down. She might, even though he was Oliver Queen. Was he hoping for that? Not really. It wasn't an ego thing, either. He really wanted to dance with her, as stupid as that was. Oliver Queen wanted to dance with a geek. True, she didn't look like a geek right now, but she definitely was one. And Laurel wasn't. Not even close. He should get this over with and rush back to her.

"Hey," he said, taking the seat to her right.

Felicity gaped at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hi. Um… You look very handsome."

"Don't I always?"

She giggled, and he could feel the tension between them fading. "You know Laurel's over there, right?"

"Yep. She told me I should hang out with you for a little while."

"Really?" Her fingers moved to adjust her glasses, then realized they weren't there. "_Why?_"

"Do you not want me around?"

"Well, no… I mean yes, but—"

"Are you here alone?"

"Um…" She bit her lip. "Well, yeah, obviously. But my parents said I should go because it's prom. I think I'll be fine if I just stay here. It's actually pretty fun to just watch everyone."

Oliver laughed. "Felicity, that's not what you're supposed to do at prom."

"It's better than getting out there and making myself a target."

He gave her his most charming smile. "Then I'll protect you."

She didn't answer, only blushed adorably.

"Dance with me."

"Y-you're insane," she eventually said. "They'll eat us alive. They'll eat _you_ alive! This could be like social suicide for you! They're going to laugh at us."

No Doubt's "Underneath It All" started playing, a song Oliver knew they could slow dance to.

"Screw 'em." He stood up and offered her his hand. "I'm Oliver Queen, remember? I do what I want."

It seemed she couldn't argue with that. Felicity took his proffered hand and sheepishly followed him to the dance floor. His hands went to her waist and hers to his shoulders, and then they were swaying to the music.

"Do you like me?" Oliver blurted.

Felicity gulped. "In what way?"

"In any way."

"I… think you're a tolerable human being."

He chuckled. "I guess that's something."

"Of course I like you, Ollie. What kind of question is that?"

"A good one,"

She sighed. "In spite of your numerous character flaws, I think you're kind of wonderful."

Oliver gave her a slow smile. "Only kind of?"

Licking her lips, she smiled back. "Even though you are so full of yourself that it seems that you'll explode at any moment, sending squishy chunks of ego flying everywhere—"

"Ew,"

"—I think you're wonderful."

His hands absentmindedly slipped down to her hips. "And I find you somewhat likable."

"I give you 'wonderful' and all I get is 'somewhat likable?' You could've at least left off the modifier."

"Okay," He pulled her a tiny bit closer. "Then you're remarkable. That fits better, doesn't it?"

A tiny smile curved her lips as she looked away. "I guess so."

"Have I mentioned how pretty you look?"

Her blush came back with a vengeance. "Uh, well yeah—I mean you didn't, but I know I look different. I got to go to a salon this time. They even did my makeup. They dyed my hair, too. I'm not a real blonde. I like being blonde, though. I've been dying it at home since last year because my mom says it's better than having mousy-brown hair, and she let me get it professionally done this time. And I'm wearing contact lenses, even though I keep thinking they'll slide to the back of my eyes and get lodged in my brain or something. And my dress is from that place in the mall—"

Oliver started laughing. "Like I said, you look gorgeous."

Felicity laced her fingers behind his neck. "That's not the word you used before."

"It isn't?"

"Nope,"

"Eh, same difference."

They spent the rest of the song in comfortable silence. When it ended, Felicity tried to gently pull away, but Oliver held tight.

"Come on, one more."

The song just beginning was "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain, a song so romantic that it seemed wrong for Oliver to dance to it with anyone but Laurel. Felicity glanced around the room for his date. "I think you should go find Laurel for this one."

"Why? It's just a song. And Laurel said I had to dance with you for more than one song or she'd ignore me the whole night. I'll leave you alone after this one, I promise."

_Curse his charismatic smile!_ Felicity thought as she put her hands on his shoulders.

This time around, she noticed the shocked stares and curious glances. They were hard to ignore, considering they meant that Oliver would be getting a lot of questions later.

"So… How was dinner with my parents?" she asked, looking for a distraction.

He smirked. "They were so nice to me that it made me feel bad." His fingers stretched around to the small of her back. "Your dad was especially polite. I'm guessing he's the one who taught you that whole turn-the-other-cheek thing that you do? 'Cause any normal person would at least deliver a few back-handed compliments to someone who's wronged them."

"He calls it 'maintaining the moral high ground.' It does wonders for my conscience, at least."

"I guess it's better than sinking to Karla's level."

"I've still thought about it, though." Felicity frowned. "In a stress-relief-fantasy kind of way."

"Well if you decide to go all '_Carrie_' on her tonight, I'll want a front-row seat."

"That would be awesome," she replied with a giggle. "Awful, but awesome."

"Or maybe I should distract her while you sneak up behind her and—"

"Oliver, stop being a bad influence."

"But it's what I do best!" he responded with a pout.

"That's not something to be proud of."

"If only I were a nerd like you."

"Yeah, it's a shame you're not very smart."

Oliver put his hand over his heart in pretend agony. "That was a cheap shot."

"You kind of walked into that one. Hey, how was your birthday—"

"Aw, isn't this adorable?"

Felicity felt her blood turn to ice as she whipped her head to her right, Oliver following after. It was the Abominable Karla, Destroyer of Worlds. Her quarterback boyfriend had his arms around her, his good-looking face emotionless.

"I take it Laurel arranged this?" she continued, that predacious smile on her ruby lips. "Felicity, you are so lucky she took pity on you. We all know you're not pretty enough for a guy to willingly dance with you."

"And we all know you're born of a jackal." Oliver retorted. "Go away, Karla."

The soul-sucking hellbeast scowled, her lips puckering and twisting. Her boyfriend expertly suppressed his smile.

Felicity drew closer to Oliver and whispered in his ear. "Don't, Ollie. I'm the one who will have to deal with her on Monday."

"I'm not familiar with turning the other cheek." he mumbled back.

"Then let me give you a crash course. Lesson one: _Shut up._"

"What are you two whispering about?" Karla snapped.

"How insanely in love we are," Oliver quipped. "And we're considering finding a hallway to make out in."

If Karla was offended before, she was deeply insulted now. Her boyfriend looked ready to laugh, and Felicity's eyes were wide. Oliver wore his cockiest smile.

"Let's go," he said, taking Felicity's hand and leading her out of the room. They didn't dare look back, lest they burst into laughter.

They started giggling once they reached the lobby, and didn't stop until they entered an empty, nearby hallway.

"Did you see her face?" Felicity pushed her hair back and adjusted the strap of her dress as they halted. "You got her _good—_"

Suddenly her back was to the wall, Oliver's hands on her upper arms. She barely had a second to process what was happening before his lips were on hers.

Her legs turned to jelly and her skin broke out in goose bumps as he drew out the kiss, pulling away fractionally with a satisfying smacking sound then pressing in again. She squeaked when he darted his tongue in her mouth, sending a bolt of electricity up her spine.

Eyelids fluttering, Felicity fought to catch her breath once their lips parted.

"That definitely counted," Oliver stated, still gripping her arms. His face was so close to hers, those deep blue eyes staring into her gray-green ones.

"Mm-hm," was all she could manage in reply.

He cleared his throat. "I should um… I should get back to Laurel."

"Yeah," She frowned, feeling guilty. Her brain had refused to work when Oliver Queen was lovin' on her with his mouth, but now it was in overdrive and reminding her that his girlfriend was one of the few people who was kind to her. "Ollie, I didn't—"

"That wasn't you, that was me," His thumb rubbed at where her dusky-pink lipstick had smudged under her bottom lip. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But Laurel's been so nice to me…" she said softly.

"Felicity, that wasn't cheating—"

"Yes it was!" she whimpered.

"Hey," Oliver caressed her cheek, begging her not to cry. "When's your birthday?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Is it soon?"

"Um… Yeah, it's June first. Why?"

He gave her a comforting smile. "Happy almost birthday, then. Hell of a gift, isn't it?"

She laughed quietly. "It's right up there with a pony and a Barbie Dreamhouse."

His smile grew wider. "That's good to know. Now I have an idea of what to get you next year."

"A pony?"

"No, a Barbie Dreamhouse." Oliver smirked. "Of course a pony. I'm filthy rich, remember?"

Slowly, she put her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, her head on his dark blue tie. "Thanks, Oliver."

He hugged her back and lightly kissed the top of her head. "No problem."

She looked up at him with a stern expression. "Now you _really_ need to get back to Laurel. Like, right now."

"You're not the boss of me," he teased.

"I'll tell your mom on you!" she warned, fighting to keep a straight face.

"I'm so scared!" he replied, each word deep-fried in sarcasm.

"I'll tell my dad."

"'K bye." he blurted as he hurried away from her. He chanced one last glimpse of her before turning the corner. Damn, that smile! Even with her braces—

What the _hell_ was going on? Why… Why did… Just… _Why?! _Did he have a tumor or something? Is that why he was acting crazy? Is that why he was attracted to—NO. No, don't use that word. It wasn't attraction, it was… Uh… Aw, dammit. _You know what? Just get back to Laurel, you stupid dumbass. _

For Felicity, the rest of the night went by in a blur. Watching everyone else have fun was downright enjoyable. And seeing Oliver and Laurel dance together got her all dreamy-eyed. Oliver wasn't so bad, and Laurel was sure to be really good for him. And Karla's boyfriend asked her to dance, which was as crazy as it was suspicious. But he didn't put a "KICK ME" sign on her back or anything, and he told her how great it was to see Karla put in her place. It gave him the courage to finally dump her, he said. Her looks made her only so tolerable. Felicity had been wondering why she was looking so sour in the corner.

Even after Greg had stopped dancing with her, her chipper mood hadn't waned. And when her parents came to pick her up, she just sat in the back seat with a huge smile on her face, giving vague details about prom without letting them know why she was so happy.

When she got home, she rushed to her room, saying she was really tired. As soon as the door was closed, she screamed gleefully into her pillow. Then she dashed over to Kermit, who looked like a slimy lump with eyes as he crouched in the middle of the tank.

"Ohmygosh, you will not _believe_ what happened to me tonight!"


	4. Midnight in a Corridor

The Christmas party was only a couple of weeks ago, but that didn't curb the grandness of the New Year's bash. QC employees, family friends, and people pretending to be family friends crowded the mansion. Champagne flowed like tap water and the hors d'oeuvre table was stuffed with delicacies that most proletarians hadn't even heard of.

Laurel snuggled next to Oliver, stunning in her glittery dress. She and Oliver sat on the couch with Tommy, laughing and sipping champagne that they pretended was sparkling cider as the party raged around them.

Oliver turned when he saw a flash of bright pink in his peripheral vision. His eyes scanned the room for the presumably color-blind old lady, curious to see how bad her outfit was. He finally located the offensive shade of pink in the form of a boxy sweater, and its wearer was much younger than he expected.

And blonde.

His heart skipped a beat as he watched Felicity leave the room. What was she doing here? He hadn't seen her since May, and he definitely hadn't seen her at the Christmas party. Was her father through with keeping her away?

After giving a vague excuse, Oliver followed her out. At first he couldn't tell where she'd gone, but then he saw her turn left when she reached the top of the stairs. He almost took two steps at a time, but he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself. Keeping a casual, painfully slow pace, he ascended the stairs then strolled down the hall.

When he turned the corner, there she was. Sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, her fingers brushed over the page of a book to turn it. She seemed completely absorbed, her glasses slipping down her nose as she read.

Oliver took the opportunity to study her without feeling embarrassed. Her bulky sweater was a bright pink with some kind of design on the front, probably ugly on its own but pretty on her. Her skirt was knee-length black wool with wide pleats and the tights underneath were white. And what goes better with white tights than black Mary Janes?

Each step he took was slow and careful; he wanted to see how close he could get before she noticed him. Only her fingers moved, either to turn a page or adjust her glasses. It took sitting down next to her to shake her from her trance.

She flinched when she saw him, her cheeks flushing bright red at the sight of his smile.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Oliver said, wishing he could wipe the big stupid grin off his face.

Pursing her lips, she stared at him shyly through her large purple glasses. He looked at her confusedly.

"What?"

"My dad said I could come as long as I promised to avoid you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. It seemed her father hadn't forgotten. "I won't tell if you won't."

A broad smile parted her lips. "Okay,"

He gaped at her. "You got your braces off!"

"Last month,"

"I kind of miss them." he admitted.

She giggled. "I don't."

_I bet it makes kissing more enjoyable, _he thought for some weird reason. "What are you reading?"

Felicity showed him the cover. "_A Storm of Swords._ It's the third in a series."

"Do you like it?"

"It's the most devastating thing I've ever read and the characters I hate aren't dying fast enough, but I can't put it down. It just sucks you in and refuses to let go. I just got to the part where the Starks and Tullys are at the Twins for Edmure's marriage to Roslin Frey and everyone's really happy, but Grey Wind was being really aggressive and I think something bad is… Oh. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear—"

No, it's fascinating," he replied, absentmindedly scooting closer. "Go on."

She blinked at him, pleasantly surprised. "There's a girl with dragons."

"Is she hot?"

"Smokin' hot."

"Like you?"

"_What?_"

It was Oliver's turn to blush. "Um, I was making a joke because your name… Uh, yeah. Never mind."

"Sure it was a joke." She smirked.

"It was!"

"I know, Ollie." Unfortunately, it seemed she meant it. "How's college going for you? Aren't you going to some Ivy League school?"

He groaned. "Yeah, Harvard. But I don't want to talk about school."

"Then let's talk about how much Laurel's missed you and how weird it is that you're talking to me instead of spending time with her."

"Why do you _always_ bring up Laurel?"

"Because the last three times I've seen you—including now—you've lingered around me when you could be with her. And you're not even supposed to talk to me."

He certainly didn't have a snappy comeback for that one. Oliver had never noticed the pattern before. "And why do you think I do that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I think it has something to do with commitment issues. I assume you like her so much it scares you, and you need the occasional escape from your feelings."

_Sure, let's go with that._ "I think you're right."

"So you should probably get down there."

"Will you stop trying to get rid of me? I haven't seen you in six months!"

"So?"

"So I _might_ want to talk to you."

"Why?" she asked in general confusion.

He sighed in annoyance. "Honestly, I don't know. I really don't know why I want to talk to a geek with an ugly sweater."

She gasped in feigned indignation. "How dare you mock my panda sweater!"

"Is that what that thing on the front is?"

"Yeah, and it's really cool." She stretched it out so he could see.

"It's not, actually. And it looks cross-eyed."

"Hey, this is the coolest sweater I own!"

"Then I feel so sorry for you."

"I feel sorry for _you._ You in your sad gray sweater…"

"This is cashmere, and it costs more than your entire outfit. And it isn't all stretched out and scratchy like that hideous pink rag you're wearing."

Felicity giggled. "You sounded a teensy bit gay just then."

"Did not," he replied with a laugh.

"I guess that explains your issues with Laurel."

"I'm not gay, Felicity."

"Okay, Oliver _Queen."_

He smacked his lips sassily, and said, "You're just jealous of how fabulous I am." which caused Felicity to collapse in a fit of giggles.

They talked about their hobbies (Felicity really _was _a nerd, but he liked it), her pet frog and his little sister who kind of counted as a pet, their parents, what they did over the summer, how good things have been at school for Felicity, their favorite movies, their favorite music, and the occasional rabbit trail. Oliver was just beginning to rant about his awful teachers at Harvard when Felicity gasped at something behind him.

He turned to see a small man standing at where the hallway turned a corner, appearing completely harmless. But that mousy little man was Asher Smoak, and Oliver knew better.

The teenagers stood up and tried to quell their panic as he drew near, a joyful smile on his slightly-wrinkled face.

"Hello, kids! Shouldn't you be downstairs? It's almost midnight and I wouldn't want either of you to miss the countdown."

_Almost midnight? It was eleven when I came up here! _Oliver thought. Felicity's reaction was the opposite; she seemed relaxed, relieved that her father had no problem with her talking to Oliver.

"We'll go right down," she said.

The teenagers moved to leave, but Mr. Smoak stopped Oliver. "He'll be on his way in a moment, Flick."

Felicity nodded, seeing only her father's kind smile. Oliver's heart was in his throat as he watched her leave.

When they were alone in that dim hallway, Mr. Smoak turned to him with a sad look. "Strange, isn't it?"

Oliver's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What is?"

"How things turn out. For instance, when I said you had to stay away from my daughter, I didn't realize it _actually _needed to be said. And yet I found you two talking alone when your beautiful girlfriend is waiting for you downstairs. And I take it this isn't the first time you've seen her since that dance. How many other times were there, Oliver?"

"Two," he said, avoiding eye contact.

"Ah. I suppose that explains her mood after prom. I'd been wondering about that. That was you, wasn't it?"

Oliver nodded, unsure where this was going.

"I appreciate that, Oliver. I really do. You did for her then what you should've done the first time around."

The anxious teenager finally relaxed. It sounded like Mr. Smoak had changed his—

"But I hope you see where this is inevitably heading. You are still _you, _after all."

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, trying to stay calm.

"Would you be talking to her if the two of you were downstairs instead of hiding up here?"

"Uh… Of course." The answer was unconvincing, and Oliver knew it. He blushed and looked away.

Asher raised an eyebrow. "Would you look at her the same way if all those people were around?"

Oliver gulped.

Asher smirked, a look closer to pity than smugness. "I may have been standing there longer than either of you realized. And I'm very observant. Now let's put our thinking caps on and figure out what would happen if you continued your friendship with my daughter with my consent, shall we? If you were brave enough to be seen with her _and _be honest about your feelings for her, could you handle your friends' disapproval? There's also Laurel, but she's a nice girl and might take the break up well enough. Oh, and don't forget the media. I'm sure they'd eat it up. But why waste time with hypotheticals? We both know you don't have the courage to let people know you're actually friends with her, let alone… well, I won't say it. I'm sure you feel ridiculous and can hardly admit the truth to yourself. But that probably won't stop you, will it? Clearly, it hasn't. I saw the proof in this hallway. No, I think we know how this will play out, and my daughter doesn't deserve that. I'm sure Laurel doesn't either."

Oliver bit his lip, avoiding those light brown eyes that seemed to see all the thoughts he wanted to hide. How did he _know?_ Was it really that obvious?

"Sir, I… I like her. A lot. I wouldn't hurt her—"

"Not intentionally. Sadly, you're so used to getting everything you want that the desire to have both will be hard to resist. Well, there's that and your cowardice—"

"I won't hurt her." he stated with more conviction.

Mr. Smoak shook his head in dismay. "You poor, naïve thing. You're bound to. And you know it, too. I can see it in your eyes. Yet you still want to be around her. But don't worry; I plan to help ease the temptation. She'll go live with her aunt in Mapleville and you won't have to worry about bumping into her again."

Oliver's heart did a swan dive into his stomach. "Where the hell is Mapleville?"

"Far enough away. It's a little town. I think she'll enjoy the quiet."

"You'll move her out of the city just because of me?"

A sad smile stretched the small man's lips. "Oh, dear. It seems you don't realize how destructive you are. But I hope you'll do the right thing and keep away from Felicity?"

The Cowardly Lion felt a rush of courage that bordered on arrogance. "What if I don't?"

Asher sighed. "I'm sure I'll think of something." There was something in his eyes that frightened Oliver, something that assured him this short little man really would think of something, and he wouldn't like it. Robert Queen only hired the best and brightest.

"The ball drops in…" Mr. Smoak checked his watch. "Goodness! Five minutes to go! I better skedaddle. And I'm sure Laurel's waiting to kiss you at midnight. Bye, Oliver."

The perplexingly formidable Mr. Smoak left Oliver standing in the hallway. The young playboy was torn between rage and the urge to cry, confusion and disturbing clarity. He had to be wrong. He _had_ to be. What did he know, anyway? Yet he was right, completely right and each statement had been a stab in the gut, a punch in the ego. Worst of all, he was about to lose Felicity. He just _got_ her. The time he had with her wasn't enough, and he wasn't going to get more of it. If he had to stay away from her, then he'd never find out what her favorite color was. Or why he overlooked her acne and liked her smile despite her braces and loved the way she adjusted her glasses. Or what it'd be like to kiss her without her braces. Or why in the hell she made him feel this way. Or made him care at all. He still didn't know any of that, and there was so much more to learn…

_Do you hear yourself right now? Stop being stupid._ He ran a hand through his hair and hurried downstairs, reminding himself he had nothing to feel sad about. He had a perfect girlfriend waiting for him who was more than he could ever ask for. Getting worked up over a girl like Felicity was just pathetic.

"Where have you been?" Laurel asked, not unkindly. Everyone was crowding around the TV, ready for the countdown.

"Mingling,"

"Oh, that's okay. Tommy and I get along really well."

Oliver stopped himself once he realized he was looking for Felicity. "That's great, Laurel. Glad to hear it."

_Ten…_

_Nine…_

_Eight…_

_Seven…_

_Six…_

_Five…_

_Four…_

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

"Happy New Year!" Everyone shouted, grabbing someone to kiss. Oliver took Laurel in his arms and when their lips met everything was better. She was enough. Of course she was enough. She was Laurel, and he was probably in love with her.

A few rowdy guests who'd had too much to drink started singing a mumbly version of "Auld Lang Syne," and others gradually joined in. Oliver casually slipped away to find a flute of champagne.

As he downed it in two gulps, he decided that it wasn't over yet. Felicity was still in the mansion somewhere, and he could see her one more time if he damn well pleased.

He could at least say goodbye.

Back up the stairs he went, starting in the most obvious place. It seemed she was in the exact same spot, but instead of having her book open it was closed beside her. She was pale and her eyes were wide, her arms folded over her chest.

"Hey," he greeted. "What's wrong?"

She flashed him a quick smile, but the frightened look didn't leave her face. "Hi, they started playing 'The Rains of Castamere.' That can't be good. I _knew_ something bad was going to happen! Lord Frey has too much pride to forgive Robb for breaking his promise, and he's going to make him pay, I just know it! But I can't keep reading. I have to brace myself for the impending tragedy, but I also don't want to read it, but I do, but I don't think I can handle it…"

In spite of everything he was feeling, he laughed. He even smiled. She was just too damn adorable.

"I need to talk to you." he stated, gesturing for her to follow him. No one was as likely to walk in on them in his room as out in the hall. She picked up her book and hurried after him with a smile on her face.

"What did he say?" she asked excitedly as he closed the door behind them. "He seemed happy when he saw us together. Did he tell you we're allowed to be friends now? I mean he saw how we get along, so why would he have a problem with it?"

Oliver had thought he knew what to say. He planned to downplay the situation and make it seem like he agreed with her father's decision. He planned to list the benefits of moving to Mapleville. He planned to say they had hardly anything in common, anyway. Pointing out that he'd probably get bored of her soon seemed like a good idea, too. But the words caught in his throat. He bit his lip and looked away, shaking his head.

Felicity hugged her book to her chest, her smile quickly fading. "He said no?"

This was it. This would be the last time he'd see her. He'd never see her gray-green eyes or her brand new smile or hear her babbling again. No more chance encounters to look forward to. All of his questions would go unanswered.

Except for maybe one.

His lips crashed into hers as his hands moved to her face. It was a better sensation than he expected, not feeling the bump of her braces beneath her lips. He should've pulled away after that, but instead he hugged her close, her arms and book trapped between their torsos. She whimpered and gasped as he continued to kiss her, her arms struggling feebly against his chest. He only held her tighter, reveling in the softness of her lips and the warmth of her body and even the scratchiness of her sweater. When he began to slide his tongue against hers, she moaned in a way that sounded more like a whine. She finally managed to wrestle out of his desperate grip.

"Ollie, what are you _doing_?" she pleaded miserably. "You're making it worse!"

He shut his eyes. Mr. Smoak was right. Oliver couldn't even say goodbye without hurting Felicity. He'd trapped her into betraying Laurel _again _and he probably would in the future if he were allowed to see her. And he didn't want to hurt Laurel, but when he was with Felicity he stopped caring. Oliver had screwed up his final moments with Felicity, and he knew he needed to leave before he made things any worse.

"That was stupid." he said, rapidly filling with self-loathing. "Sorry,"

Felicity reached for him gently as he brushed by her, but he shrugged her off. Oliver didn't look back. He just opened the door and left.

_I'll miss you too, Ollie, _she thought as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, wincing when it scratched her skin.


	5. 414 Granny Smith Lane

All the streets were named after apples, Felicity noticed as she explored the snow-covered neighborhood. So far she'd seen Red Delicious Road, McIntosh Avenue, Braeburn Boulevard, Gala Circuit, Cameo Court, and Fuji Drive. Her Aunt Debbie lived at 414 Granny Smith Lane. Well, they both did now, but that was still hard to think about.

Felicity clenched her fists inside her mittens and pulled them into the sleeves of her coat. The sky was growing dark and the cold was getting to her, but she wasn't ready to go back to her aunt's—uh, to go back home. She'd need to get use to calling it that.

She hadn't believed her parents when they first told her. It was the second afternoon of 2004, and they'd spent the first half of the day talking in their bedroom. It seemed important by the way they grew quiet whenever she walked down the hall. Felicity forced herself to stay in the living room to avoid the temptation to eavesdrop. Then her mom made macaroni and cheese for lunch, which was her favorite. She ate it warily, remembering the last time her mom had made it without being asked was just before telling her that the neighbor had killed her emerald tree boa after it escaped and was discovered eating his chihuahua. Felicity really missed Snugglesnake and his dangerous hugs.

Anyway, it turned out that the macaroni and cheese really was foreboding. Her parents sat her down on the couch afterwards and told her she'd be moving to Mapleville. Not they, just her. And Kermit, obviously. Her face had contorted in confusion before asking why. Her mother quickly answered with a fumbling explanation of bullies, which was strange because the Insufferable Six were more bearable now and anyway she'd be rid of them in June. Then her father patted her mother's hand and stepped in. It was astounding, really, how he always got away with telling the truth. She hadn't screamed, or argued, or ranted, or stomped upstairs to her room. All she'd done was sigh and nod.

Packing had been strange, since it was only her room emptying and filling the hall with boxes. She told herself it was practice for when she moved out and went to college, and it made her feel a little better. Packing alone took longer, but she'd insisted on it, saying something about wanting to know where everything was. It wasn't clear if her parents had bought that, but they let her do it anyway.

Oliver's suit jacket had been put in the bottom of a clothes box, their pre-dance picture tucked in the inside pocket. Her mom had slipped it to her one day when her father was gone, a knowing smile on her face. Oliver was dazzling, even though his smile wasn't genuine. It didn't matter, though, because the picture reminded her of all that had happened later. She'd been nervous, wondering if her father would come in and make her get rid of the picture and jacket, but he never did. To distract herself from the sadness and worry, she turned on the radio. "I Want Candy" started playing after a few commercials, and she sang along between giggles.

Mapleville was a two-hour drive from Starling City. The car ride there consisted of reassurances and her parents' favorite music, but she only half-listened. _If only I'd listened, _she thought morosely. _I shouldn't have tried to get away with talking to Oliver with my dad around. I should've told him to go away and hope I'd see him some other time._ It wouldn't be easy to run into him if he was two hours away. Well, he was at Harvard most of the time and that was on the other side of the country, but moving meant never seeing him in the summer or spring break or on holidays.

Oliver was her only friend. She had seen Laurel more often, but had never really talked to her. And her fellow math club and chess club members were nice to her, but she'd never connected with any of them. Oliver was as close as she got, but he was a bad influence; so bad that her father thought she needed to move away to keep from seeing him. It seemed like an overreaction, but her father was far too level-headed to make such a drastic move without a good reason.

She sure hoped there was a good reason, because she was already missing Oliver. And it seemed he'd miss her too. That desperate kiss he gave her was obviously a spontaneous reaction to losing her so suddenly. But he'd be okay eventually.

That kiss was really something, though. She'd loved every second, but he was Laurel's boyfriend and she didn't want to betray her. That's why she kept her massive, gigantic crush to herself. Well, that and it was just ridiculous. As if Oliver would ever actually _want_ her. Yeah, he'd kissed her the last two times she'd seen him, but they were impulsive and hadn't meant he was attracted to her. There was the aforementioned second time, and then there was the time at prom. That one was a bit harder to understand, but it could've been to spite Karla or to just make sure Felicity had a great night.

Oh, he was so… Well, not perfect, but he was definitely _physically _perfect. Like, super crazy gorgeous. Those blue eyes, that smile… Well, just about every part of him, really. It was his personality that needed work; he was shallow, egotistical, and cowardly. But he was still funny, clever (sometimes), and sweet. So yeah, it was possible that she was in love with him. Just a little bit. So maybe it was a good idea to move. If she kept hanging out with him, she might've gotten sick of the friend zone and done something stupid. It was for the best.

That's what she told herself as she unpacked. Aunt Debbie had offered to help, and Felicity had reluctantly let her. She was her father's youngest sister, but trustworthy enough to allow a glimpse of the jacket. And after her sympathetic reaction, she was given more than a glimpse. Felicity nervously showed her the picture inside.

"I've seen him on the news, but… _Damn_." Aunt Debbie's hazel eyes were wide as she studied the picture. "If my dad kept me from seeing a guy that hot, I'd be pretty pissed."

"Oliver's a bad influence," Felicity explained as she tossed her socks into the drawer.

"Yeah, and your dad moved you out of the city just to keep him away from you." She smirked. "This guy must really like you."

Felicity adjusted her glasses. "We're just friends. I mean, sure, I'm crushing on him, but how can I not? Anyway, he's out of my league and has a beautiful girlfriend and there's just no way."

Aunt Debbie's smirk grew into a grin. "Oh, so you _are_ crushing on him? So that means you've imagined his big, strong arms around you, his soft lips against yours?" Though she was twenty-six, she often acted sixteen. She puckered her lips at her niece.

Felicity blushed. "Actually, I don't have to imagine it."

Those hazel eyes were wide again. "_No!_"

"Yes,"

"_What?_" Aunt Debbie gave a short laugh. "Just friends, my ass."

"We are, though!"

"Sure. Did he use tongue?"

"Um… Only on the last two."

"The last _two_? He kissed you more than once?"

"Aunt Debbie—"

"He _frenched _you more than once? How many times has it been?"

"Three." Felicity finished filling her underwear drawer. "The first one was an accident. We were in his car and I was just trying to thank him with a kiss on the cheek, but he turned his head at the last second. The second was at prom and he was just being nice—"

"Yeah, right."

"—And the third was when my dad told him he could never see me again. None of it meant he _wanted _me, though."

"Open your bespectacled eyes, Felicity!" Aunt Debbie waved the picture in her face. "He used his tongue! He used it twice! How does that not mean he wants you?"

Felicity rolled her eyes and dug through a box for her yearbook. "Do you know who his girlfriend is?" She found the book and flipped it to the junior prom page and pointed to the prom queen. "This. This is Laurel Lance. Every time he's kissed me, he's been dating her. So why would he possibly want me if he already has her?"

"Well, I'll admit she looks like a supermodel," Aunt Debbie said, nodding. "But maybe you have something she doesn't."

"Like what? Laurel is perfect. Like, Disney princess perfect. Why would Oliver choose an ugly duckling over her?"

"Maybe you're not an ugly duckling,"

"I am the very definition of an ugly duckling."

Aunt Debbie gave her a warm smile. "You remember how that story ends, don't you? Maybe he sees you as a swan."

"Whatever." Felicity took the picture and placed it back inside his jacket. "I don't care if he wants me or not. I'm more upset about losing the closest friend I've had since the fifth grade."

Aunt Debbie took out a stack of books. "You'll make friends here, Flick. Maybe you'll even meet a boy."

"I don't want to meet a boy," she answered, her voice breaking. "I wanna see Ollie again!"

Aunt Debbie frowned and pulled her into a hug, letting her cry.

"I didn't get enough time with him!" Felicity whined. "It's not fair! I only saw him four times!"

Aunt Debbie rubbed her back. "Sweetie, I'd like to tell you I'd help you see him, but Asher did this for a reason. Your father only does what's best for you."

Felicity sobbed into her shoulder. "Oliver was nice to me. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Not on purpose, anyway."

Her niece whimpered at the painfully truthful response. "Dad didn't have to send me away so soon, you know! Oliver will be in Cambridge until at least spring break! But no, he had to make a _statement._ He just had to snatch me away the moment he saw me with Oliver_." _Felicity sniffled and pulled a tissue from her sweater sleeve. "Couldn't I have at least stayed until something bad happened? And if he's so bad, then why does Laurel's dad allow her to date him? He's really protective of her, so why would he let her see him but my dad has to send me away? Is it because Laurel's pretty and I'm not?" Her tear-filled eyes met her aunt's. "Is Oliver embarrassed of me?"

Aunt Debbie wiped a tear away with her thumb. "I'm sure he cares about you very much."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I don't know what the reason is, Flick. But this is for the best."

Felicity bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah. Do you mind if I go for a walk?"

Aunt Debbie smiled kindly. "So long as you don't run back to Starling City."

"No promises," Felicity quipped as she left her new room.

* * *

**Okay, so I listened to "The Way It Is" by Nicole Atkins over and over and OVER while I wrote this. I would have put it in the chapter, but it would've been anachronistic and I'm finicky about details. Anyway, I think it's awesome and relevant and illustrates Felicity (and Oliver's?) feelings well. Just thought I'd mention it.**

**Also, I know this chapter was short but don't worry because the next one will be much longer. **


	6. Cambridge

**I saw the first few episodes of **_**Arrow**_** again, and I noticed that Oliver supposedly got A LOT of tail before the island. Yet they said he dated Laurel for a long time in the episode with the way-back flashback; Laurel says their friends are moving in together because they've been together a long time, but Laurel and Ollie have been together longer. That means years, right? Also, they said they've all known each other forever in "Betrayal" when Tommy and Laurel have dinner with Oliver and Helena. So was Oliver with tons of women right up until he shipwrecked, or was he with one woman for years? Did he fool around with other girls and Laurel never found out, or was it only Sara? And they never said Oliver and Laurel had an on/off relationship. AND it seems impossible for him to have been friends with her first, because he's Oliver. This whole playboy/boyfriend thing is feeling contradictory.**

**Oh, and kudos to the Harvard University website. That campus map kicks ass.**

* * *

The upperclassmen of Russell Hall were throwing a party, and what party would be worthwhile without Oliver Queen? The pampered, frequently inebriated rich boy stood around with his drinking buddies. They had names, but he secretly referred to them as Dude, Bro, and Man because they were more frat-boyish than he was. There was also Bruce, whom he mostly saw as a rival.

"Dance, Dance" started playing, and Oliver smiled; Fall Out Boy was one of his favorite bands. He watched as some girls started moving to the music, noting how expertly they moved their hips when Bro called for his attention.

"Some MIT chicks just walked in!" He was right; they looked awkward and out of place, and one of them had an MIT shirt on. Their kind showed up sometimes, their school being in the same town as Harvard. Guys like Bro liked to mess with them or get them drunk to see what would happen. He was probably scoping out a target right now; was it the tiny Asian, the excited brunette, the freckly redhead wearing her school's t-shirt, the mannish brunette, or the quirky, slightly edgy blonde with purple—

Holy shit.

Oliver nearly choked on his beer as he did a double take. No possible way was that her. He hadn't seen her in _three years_—well, technically four—

"The blonde's kinda hot," said Man. The girl had more of a figure than the others, and if it was Felicity, the freshmen fifteen looked _really_ good on her. Oliver studied her, seeing her cute nose and full lips and then that smile… It was her. Those were her purple glasses and holy crap it was her.

"Dibs on the blonde," slurred Bruce. Oliver took another swig to hide his annoyance.

Dude laughed. "Seriously? You wanna freak a geek?"

"She's still a girl, Dylan," Bruce smirked. "I'm sure it's not much different than banging one of these Harvard hotties."  
Oliver stomach tied in knots. "I think I saw her first, Bruce."

His friends all looked at him quizzically.

"Don't you already have a girlfriend?" asked Bruce before taking another drink.

"Yeah, so? It doesn't count if it's just one time." A sly grin pulled at his lips.

They all laughed, but Bruce was relentless. "I still called dibs."

"I don't care."  
Bruce bristled, but the smile remained on his face. "Fine. Rock, paper, scissors."

Oliver nodded and they held out their fists.

"Rock, paper, scissors, sh—"_SMACK!_ Oliver stuck Bruce on the cheek with a moderate slap, cutting him short. The billionaire playboy of Gotham City gaped in surprise.

"Paper covers rock. I win."

The brief, heavy silence erupted into boisterous laughter. Bruce clapped in him on the shoulder. "Good one! Now go get your nerd."

_You're damn right she's my nerd,_ Oliver thought as he smiled and left. Felicity and her poindexter posse had left the room, so he had to look around a bit before he found them. When he did, he had to roll his eyes. Some guy was talking to the group of friends, specifically Felicity. She looked nervous and possibly confused by the attention. As Oliver walked closer, he took in all the details: her un-frizzy hair was down and looked artfully messy, a thin pink streak framing the left side of her face; her skin was completely clear; her glasses were the same, which he was happy about; her lips were berry-pink and glossy; little silver arrows dangled from her ears; he could tell that her snug green t-shirt was vintage, but he couldn't tell what was on it; her hands grasped the straps of a little blue backpack that functioned as a purse; those low-riding, ripped-up bell-bottoms hugged her cute, incredible ass and tempting thighs, the very sight making him sweat.

It was Felicity, _his _Felicity, no matter how different she looked. Her smile hadn't changed, and neither had her timid disposition. There was no need for him to worry that she wouldn't want to see him. Of course she missed him as much as he missed her.

When he reached them, he casually shoved What's-His-Face out of the way and made sure to act far drunker than he really was.

"Hey!" he said with a goofy smile, directing the greeting to all five girls. Felicity was smiling in a way that melted Oliver's insides. "I'm completely wasted and I need a somewhat responsible person to drive me home. You MIT dweebs fit the profile, right? You all look pretty sober." He turned his attention towards Felicity and fought to hide his delight. "How about you, Poindexter Punk Barbie? Can you get me home safe and sound? 'Cause I've got a lot of debauchery planned for tomorrow and I need to get home alive."

Felicity's friends gawked, wondering why he singled her out. They also seemed kind of offended.

"She came here to have fun, not be your chauffeur!" argued the redhead with a piggy nose. The rest of them seemed to agree, even Felicity.

"And I just got here, too." said Felicity with an apologetic smile. "Do you mind finding someone who actually wants to do it?"

Oliver felt a slight pain in his chest, wondering if he had misheard her. "So that's a no?"

"That's a hell no. Sorry, rich boy." Felicity answered, crossing her arms.

Trying not to look devastated was pretty hard, but Oliver managed. "Whatever." he said with a shrug before leaving.

He'd only just gotten there himself, but now he just wanted to go home. After wading through the sea of people, Oliver stepped out into the chilly March air. His dark green henley was just enough to keep him warm on the trek to the parking garage. He stuck his hands into his jeans pockets as he kept a brisk pace down the sidewalk.

Why did she act that way? It was like she appreciated the hello, but wanted him to go away. Was it because he wasn't allowed to see her and she had to move all the way to Mapleville because of him? Was it because he'd acted drunk? Did she hate him? Was it because he'd called her Poindexter Punk Barbie? He'd just tried to get her away from her friends without them knowing he knew Felicity. Not that he was embarrassed of her; he knew that people knowing about them would eventually get to the paparazzi, and if that happened they might end up on a tabloid cover. Mr. Smoak would find out and then he'd probably do something Oliver would hate. Whatever it was, Felicity didn't want to see him, and that made Oliver want to either curl up in a ball or break something. He wasn't sure yet.

As he drew nearer to the front door of Randolph Hall, he heard someone running behind him. The sound barely registered as he walked closer to the building to get out of the way.

"Stop walking so fast!" a female voice cried a few feet behind him. He turned to see Felicity panting. "Do you know how painful it is to run when it's this cold? My lungs are seared! And I forgot my jacket in my dorm so the wind isn't great either. Did you assume I could get away immediately?"

Oliver gulped. "Um, hi,"

Felicity's eyes narrowed. "You had no idea what I was doing, did you?"

He shook his head, a smile on his lips. He'd never been so happy to be so wrong. "How did you lose them?"

"I reminded them how much I hate parties then told them I'd be at the library."

"Which one? There's quite a few of them."

She shrugged. "The big one on the other side of Massachusetts Avenue. What's it called, Weisinger?"

"Widener."

"Ah. I told them I'd get back on my own, so it doesn't really matter. Let's get going before someone sees us." She started walking and he happily followed after. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"My car is in the Holyoke Center Garage. I was heading back to my apartment but if you have somewhere else you wanna go…"

"Your place?" She grinned. "Cool. I'm driving, though. You smell like beer."

"I only had one."

"Are you sure? You put on a great show back there."

"Thanks, I'm very proud of that performance." he replied as they crossed Linden Street. His hand brushed hers as they reached the sidewalk, and she blushed. He'd really missed seeing her blush.

"Um, I'm still driving. You know, to be safe."

"Of course," He pulled the keys from his pocket and placed them in her hand. She squinted at them when they passed a street lamp.

"Is this _the_ Aston Martin?"

"Yep," Of course that's the car he took to college with him; it reminded him of her. "Hey, what's on your shirt?"

Felicity looked down as she stretched it out for him to see. "It's _The Muppet Show_. There's Kermit and Miss Piggy and everybody hanging around the letters."

Oliver nodded, his smile wide. "Very cool. Where'd you get it? It looks old."

The shirt sprang back as she let go, an inch of her flat tummy momentarily visible. "I filched it from my mom's closet the last time I visited. She got it when she was a teenager."

"Do you see them often?" he asked, feeling a pang of guilt.

"I miss them sometimes, but I do like living with Aunt Debbie. Moving to Mapleville wasn't completely horrible."

_For you, maybe._ "What's it like there?"  
"Quaint," answered Felicity as they carefully crossed Holyoke Street, minding the traffic. "Trees and cute little houses and mom-and-pop stores. And a big apple orchard. The streets in my neighborhood are named after apples and half the houses have picket fences and a few even have tire swings. And it gets so _quiet_ there! Sometimes all you hear at night are crickets and the occasional dog barking. The high school there is small, too, but it was nice and I even made a few friends."

"You made friends?" Oliver was oddly uncomfortable with that. "That place sounds perfect, then."

"Oh, it's far from perfect, Ollie." Her expression suggested his absence was the reason why. His heart did a backflip.

"Starling City sucks without you." he said, looking away as they approached the garage.

Felicity fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. "Really?"

He nodded. "And up until now, Cambridge did too."

She smiled shyly and studied her shoes, which he noticed were black Chuck Taylors. "Yeah, it did."

They found his car quickly by hitting the button on the key and following the honk.

"Oh, Silver. I like it." Felicity commented as she opened the passenger door for him. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"I think I'm supposed to open the door for _you."_ he said stubbornly.

"But you're cripplingly drunk and I'm driving you home," she replied with pretend innocence. "Or was it all some ruse to get me in your car?"

"Pfft," Oliver crossed his arms. "I don't need a ruse to get a girl in my car. All I have to do is introduce myself."

Felicity stuck out her bottom lip as she nodded. "Yep, you're totally wasted. Let's get you home."

Oliver gave her a wry smile as he slipped into the passenger seat. She shut the door and walked around to the driver's side.

Felicity seemed nervous as she started the car, but they left the garage without causing any damage.

"Where do you live?"

"Across the river. It's easy to get to."

She gulped and nodded as she turned onto Holyoke Street.

"You're not going to wreck my car, Felicity. You drive more carefully than I do." he encouraged as he patted her leg. She blushed at the contact, but she relaxed all the same.

"I hope not. I mean, I hope I do, um, drive more carefully. And I hope I don't wreck your car." she responded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's just that your car's really expensive. Not that you couldn't afford to—"

"Is that…" he said, paying more attention to her ear than to what she was saying. "an industrial piercing?"

"Yeah, my eighteenth birthday present from Aunt Debbie." She bit her lip. "Do you like it?"

He stared at the two silver piercings in the top of her ear. They were cool and somehow suited her, but the sight also unnerved him. "It seems like your aunt has been very influential."

"She has," Her fingers rapped the steering wheel. "Wait 'til you see my other presents."

Oliver's eyebrows went up.

"Wow. That sounded really dirty." Felicity admitted. "I meant my tattoo and bellybutton piercing."

If Oliver had been drinking water, he would've spewed it all over the dash. "Felicity Smoak—that scrawny dork I took to the dance, the nerd with the hideous overalls, the girl in the ugly pink panda sweater—has a _tattoo? _And… and that other thing? Man, I can't even fathom you having that other thing." He sank in his seat. "You've changed so much."

Felicity sucked her bottom lip. "You seem upset."

"If you change too much, doesn't that mean you'll outgrow me?" Oliver blurted.

"Of course not," She glanced at him, her expression sincere. "No amount of tattoos and piercings will make me outgrow you. I'm always going to be that meek little geek who's half in love with you."

Oliver blinked at that. "What was that last part?"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "I'm a girl and you're Oliver Queen. You saved me from Karla. You were my first kiss. And you look like _you_. If my heart didn't go pitter-pat whenever I saw you, then I wouldn't be human."

Oh. Not the declaration of love he would've liked, but it was still flattering. "That's what I thought. I've never known a girl who wasn't at least fractionally in love with me."

"Must be such a burden."

"It's caused far too many catfights."

"Get over yourself, Oliver." Felicity said with a laugh.

The rest of the drive was quiet, except for when Felicity turned on the radio. She sang along theatrically to "Holding Out for a Hero" while Oliver cracked up beside her. He was surprised by how pretty her voice was.

Felicity was impressed when she stepped into his apartment, just as he thought she'd be. She set her tiny backpack on the table by the door before looking around.

"So, about that tattoo…" Oliver asked, trying not to enjoy the sight of her backside.

"Curious, huh?" Her thumbs hooked into her belt loops as she strolled back to him. "Have you ever thought of getting a tattoo?"

"Me? No. Not my style."

"My mom wishes I thought that way." She licked her lips. "Just don't pass out like she did, please."

He leaned against the back of the couch. "Okay, now I'm a little scared."

She bit her lip and giggled. "Do you want to guess what and where it is first?"

"Hmm..." Oliver hummed as he thought. "Well, it's not on either wrist… Back of the neck? I'm willing to bet you money it's on the back of your neck. Or an ankle."

Nope. When she showed him her neck, he saw nothing. Same went for behind her ears, which he saw when she lifted her hair and smushed it into a bun with her fist. Her ankles were bare, too.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Is it a butterfly?" Guessing where it was had him feeling feverish now that the more innocent places were off the board.

"Uh-uh." Her look suggested he was cold.

"A bird? A dolphin? A star? Some kind of flower? A word? A quote?"

She shook her head at every guess. "Getting colder."

"A cartoon character?"

"No."

"Kermit the Frog?"

"Wrong."

"Is it something from _A Song of Ice and Fire_?"

She sighed. "No, but that would've been cool."

Oliver pouted. "That's a shame. I was hoping you'd have Drogon on your shoulder or something."

"Yeah—Wait, you read those books?" Her eyes were wide. "I _knew_ I saw you reading _A Clash of Kings_ outside that coffee shop! I couldn't tell for sure but I had a feeling—"

"You saw me?" Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Hey, wait, you've always known I was here! You knew Harvard and MIT were both in Cambridge and you didn't come find me!"

Felicity pursed her lips. "I'm not even allowed to see you and I thought… I didn't know if you'd want to see me."

"You thought I had gotten over you?" His hands balled into fists.

"That's a weird way to put it, but yeah." She wringed her hands. "My dad said—"

"He's wrong. Whatever he told you is wrong."

"But you're _you_, and I never understood why you would bother with me—"

He yanked her into a hug, one arm across her shoulders and the other crossing her body, his hand resting on her hip. "Just shut up, okay? You're not making any sense."

Her arms snaked around his waist, and he felt her nod against his chest. He took the opportunity to inhale her honeysuckle scent and feel her wavy-curly hair against his face…

"Um, your stubble is scratching my neck. It kinda hurts."

Oliver pulled away, hoping she didn't realize he'd practically nuzzled her. "So, uh… If it's not Drogon, what is it?"

Her hands dropped to her sides, and he reluctantly did the same. "I'll give you a hint; Think of Dorne. What do they call Prince Oberon's daughters?"

"Sand… _You have a snake tattoo_?" Oliver shook his head in disbelief. "No frickin' way."

Felicity smirked and slowly lifted up the hem of her shirt.

"Woah!" Blushing bright red, Oliver took a few steps back. "Where exactly is this thing? Are you about to flash me?" He secretly hoped she would.

She scoffed. "If it were somewhere like that, I wouldn't be showing you." Her hem rose quickly to her waist on one side, revealing an intricate, bright green snake's head on her hipbone. She turned slowly around, showing the coils and curves of its body across her lower back. At its widest, the tattoo couldn't be more than two inches (some was hidden beneath her jeans), but the snake was thick and stretched from hip to hip. The detail was very impressive and the snake even had a shadow.

His nerdy little Felicity had a tattoo. It wasn't even something sweet and girly; it was something a biker would wear proudly. It was difficult for him to wrap his mind around. Not that he didn't like it—it was _really cool_, and it kind of suited her—but the sight of something like that on her was blowing his mind. He reached out and touched it, almost expecting to feel the scales. Her skin went all goosepimply at the contact.

"Um, it's awesome, right?" she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

_It's so… badass._ "Why that? Does it mean anything?" He resisted the urge to wipe his brow; for some reason he'd started to sweat.

She leaned over a bit so she could see it better, a small smile on her face. "It's the emerald tree boa I had as a kid. My uncle got him for me—the questionably responsible one, I'll tell you about him later—and I was really upset when he died. The python, not the uncle. My uncle's still alive. But Snugglesnake was my favorite pet, so that's what I got."

"You had a python when you were a kid… named Snugglesnake." Oliver chuckled. _You weird, cute little thing._ "How'd you lose him?"

Felicity let go of her shirt, and Oliver was disappointed to see her pretty inked skin hidden. "Neighbor shot him for eating his Chihuahua."

"That's so sad," said Oliver, trying not to laugh. He put his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

She noticed and playfully smacked his arm. "It was a horrible childhood trauma! Don't laugh at my pain!"

"Sorry," he apologized, getting himself under control. "Now what about your bellybutton ring? Is it a skull or something hardcore like that?"

She giggled. "Nah, this is way more believable." Her shirt went up again, and Oliver's heart shot right into his throat and back down like a bell-and-hammer carnival game. He wasn't sure what that little rectangle charm was supposed to be, but the dark blue gem and silver piercing was sexy as hell, her torso even more so. Before his mind could marinate in numerous naughty notions, he blinked and looked her in the eye.

"Cute. It looks like a phone booth."

"Police box, actually. It's the TARDIS."

He squinted. "What's that?"

"It's from _Doctor Who_."

"Doctor what?"

"No, _Doctor Who_. It's a show." She put her shirt back down, and he almost pouted. "The TARDIS is his time machine."

"You said it was a police box."

"It only _looks_ like a police box. The chameleon circuit is broken so it's stuck like that."

"Why a police box?"

Felicity shrugged. "It was the 60's. Britain had police boxes then."

"So it's a British show that takes place in the 60's?"

"Yes. No. I mean it's British, there're British people in it, but it takes place all over the place. Different planets and time periods. The TARDIS takes the Doctor and his companions wherever and they do stuff."

So… it's _Grey's Anatomy _meets _Star Trek_?"

Felicity bit her lip, almost in annoyance. "He's not that kind of doctor."

"He's a professor?"

She sighed and shook her head. "It's a nerd show. Let's leave it at that."

"Gotcha." He moved around the couch and sat down. "Glad to see you're still a geek. The tattoo had me wondering."

Smiling, Felicity sat down beside him. "I'm a geek to my core; that's not changing. It's as immutable as your pretty-boy egotism."

Oliver made a show of looking insulted. "That… is completely true." He smirked. "I thought your shyness was just as unchangeable. I kind of miss that."

"Oh, I'm still shy." She tucked her legs beneath her. "But not right now. We have too much to catch up on; we don't have time for me to be shy."

"Guess I'll have to work harder to make you blush." His fingers tucked that pink streak behind her ear and she gulped, her cheeks reddening. "Still easy, though." By some strange magnetism, he found himself leaning in, looking forward to a long-overdue kiss.

But when they were only a foot apart, Felicity reached up and tapped him on the nose. "Boop!"

Startled, Oliver stopped and eyed her inquisitively. She only tapped her short, multicolored nails on the back on the couch. "How're things with Laurel?"

Ugh. Why did she always bring up Laurel? "We're great."

"How often do you see her?"

"She's going to UCLA, so only on breaks and in the summer."

"So you saw her during spring break last week?"

"Mm-hm." Did they really have to talk about this? He was more interested in why her nails were purple and blue. "She's already studying for the LSAT, but she made time for me." He ran a hand through his hair. "And she wants us to move in together after I graduate. At least for the summer, since I'll be going to business school here and she'll still be in California."

She smiled like a little girl who'd just heard a romantic fairytale. "Sounds like things are getting serious. Maybe she'll get into law school at Harvard when she graduates and she can live here with you."  
Oliver felt an uncomfortable pain in his stomach. "That's why she's studying so early."

"Well I'm sure she'll get in. She's always been focused."

He scratched his chin. "Yeah. On another note, Sara hit on me."

It took Felicity a moment you realize who he was talking about. Then she gaped at him. "Laurel's little sister? I remember her! She's, a… not as nice as Laurel. She was kind of rebellious, too."

"Still is. I know she's always had a thing for me, but it's always been harmless. Then one night when she came over with Laurel and Tommy, she got me alone and… um, she explained how much fun we could have."

"That…" _bitch,_ her expression said. But Felicity held her tongue. "That's awful. What did you do?"

"I turned her down, obviously. But I was nice about it. I told her she should consider dating Tommy, and her response made it clear she wasn't changing her mind."

Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose. "What did she _say_?"

"That if we were both cheating on someone, then it'd be more exciting."

She scowled. "I can't believe she would do that to Laurel."

"Sara's always been annoyed by how goody-goody her sister is. She said that she's better for me than Laurel is."

Peeved, Felicity folded her arms. "That's so mean."  
"If you want to curse, go ahead and curse."

"That traitorous, envious little bitch!" Felicity slapped her hand over her mouth. "That was terrible. I can't believe I said that."

Oliver chuckled. "I thought the same thing about her when she was trying to seduce me. I handled it, though."

"I doubt it. I remember Sara being relentless."  
"You know nothing, Felicity Smoak." He tapped her nose like she'd done to him earlier. She smiled adorably. "I've got it under control. Now quit worrying about her and fangirl with me about _A Song of Ice and Fire._"

She obeyed, and they talked well into the night about direwolves and lions and dragons, taking the occasional detour. He was especially intrigued by her new hobby cultivated by her aforementioned uncle, who taught her how to count cards. As the moon rose, they grew closer on the couch without realizing it. When Oliver's arm was draped over her shoulders and her head was against his chest, he dared to ask the question that had been gnawing at him since he saw her in Russell Hall.

"So I overheard my dad when I was home for spring break… he said he was going to take the yacht out really soon."

Felicity glanced up at him drowsily. "That sounds fun."

Oliver beamed, hopeful. "The _Queen's Gambit _is awesome. And he's sailing to China, so the trip will be a few weeks long. I was thinking about taking some time off and going with him."

"Finals week isn't far away. Are you sure you can go?"

"I've got it covered. My team of geeks hasn't failed me yet."

"I should've known," she mumbled. "Then I guess you should go. Great way to bond with your dad."

"Or you," he blurted, his palms beginning to sweat. She looked up at him, surprised. "My dad would keep our secret. And your dad would think you were at school. Wouldn't it be great to have all that time together and not worry about getting caught?"

She smiled dreamily. "That sounds… wonderful. But I can't, especially with all the work I have to do. And anyway, that sounds like something for you and Laurel to do, don't you think?"

Disappointed, Oliver gave her his best puppy eyes. "But I don't see you nearly as often."

"Get those baby blues under control, Oliver Queen." she warned, poking his chest. "Quit fighting dirty."

"Oh, that's nothing. _This _is fighting dirty." He tickled her sides. She twitched and twisted, laughing. "Say you'll go with me," he demanded with a chuckle.

Instead, she fought back. He was at her mercy until he grabbed her wrists and pinned her down on the couch.

"Come on, please," he panted, hovering over her. "We need to make up for the past three years—well, four. We could see Beijing or wherever the hell my dad is going. And we might see dolphins or a whale or like, seals or something. And the yacht is huge and we'd have it almost all to ourselves. Please please _please_…"

"Ollie," Felicity squirmed her wrists from his grasp and took his face in her hands. "Ollie Ollie Pollywog," she said, shaking his head. He giggled, aching for her to say yes. "I can't. You know I can't. You go spend time with your dad. I'll be here when you get back."

Crestfallen, Oliver groaned. "Fine."

They both sat up and continued talking until their tongues grew tired and their eyelids weighed heavy with sleep.

Oliver woke the next morning with his head on Felicity's chest, unsure how he ended up sleeping on top of her. Not that he was complaining. She was snoring softly and her hair was crazy and her glasses were askew and she was so, so beautiful.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to slip his tongue in her mouth as his hands ran over her curves. He wanted to watch her peel off that ridiculously adorable shirt and wriggle out of those jeans. He wanted to make her moan and squeal, sweat and writhe. He wanted her very, very badly.

But he knew better. He remembered last time when he ruined his goodbye with a kiss. He saw how angry she was to hear that Sara wanted to betray Laurel. Oliver wasn't about to screw things up again, not after losing her for so long.

So he did kiss her, but only on the cheek. Then he lay back down and tried to get back to sleep.

Unfortunately, there was a knock at the door not long after. Oliver startled out of half-consciousness and Felicity barely stirred.

Irritated, Oliver marched over and answered the door.

"Hey, buddy!" greeted Tommy Merlyn. "I got bored so I thought I'd surprise you."

Oliver rested his head on the door. "I'm kinda busy."

"It's nine in the morning. On a Saturday. How busy could you possibly be? And you do realize I gave up sleeping in to come hang out with you, right?"

The sleepyheaded playboy sighed. "I appreciate you flying in and giving up sleep for me, but… Don't touch that."

Tommy ignored him; he'd picked up the tiny blue backpack on the table by the door. "Isn't this precious? Aw, it's got a drawstring and look! There's lip gloss and a keychain-laden set of keys—"

"Put it down."

—and look at this pretty pink _Powerpuff Girls _wallet! So adorable! Hey, let's see who it belongs to."

"Tommy—"

"An MIT ID. It seems you're broadening your horizons."

"_Tommy—_"

"Yikes. You're _really_ broadening your horizons. Jeez, what a dweeb. A dweeb named Felicity…" Tommy's eyes got huge as comprehension dawned. "_Felicity Smoak?_ That freak you took to the dance in high school!? What the hell, Ollie!?"

"It's not like that."

"So she's doing your homework?"  
"Yes."

"Then where is she?"

"Sleeping."

"_Sleeping_!? Why?"

"None of your business."

Tommy got that determined look on his face that Oliver rarely liked. "FELICITY!"

She yelped and sprung into a sitting position, dazed and disoriented. "What is it!?" Her hair was disheveled and in her glasses crooked as she looked around the room in frightened bewilderment. "What… Who…" Then she spied the two gorgeous billionaires by the door. It wasn't easy to see through all the hair, but she was probably blushing. "'Sup."

His outrage forgotten, Tommy laughed. "Good morning, princess."

"Morning, Tommy." Felicity smoothed her hair and fixed her glasses, smiling bashfully. "Ollie, I should probably go."

"Right," he replied. "And thanks for your help with that essay." he said as she walked towards the door.

"Essay?" Her brow furrowed. "What… Oh, I get keeping the secret, but I don't think you have to lie to your best friend."

"I'm not lying," he lied.

Tommy and Felicity exchanged a furtive glance before he handed over her purse. The two stared at Oliver as she pulled the straps over her shoulders.

"Of course not," agreed Felicity as she stepped over the threshold. "I totally helped you with your homework last night."

"Just as he told me you did." added Tommy.

"Yep. Well, nice seeing you again, Tommy."

He nodded. "You too,"

"Bye, Pollywog," she said with a smirk as she turned and left.

Tommy gave his best friend a mischievous grin. "Someone has a new nickname."

"Don't you dare,"

"You don't want me to call you that?" he teased as he entered the apartment.

Oliver closed the door. "So not in the mood."

"And what exactly are you so pissed about?" His expression made him look very punchable. "Are you upset your tutor had to leave so soon?"

"If I tell you the truth, you'll laugh at me."

"I'm your best friend, Oliver. I only laugh at you when it's appropriate."

"You promise?" he asked, heading reluctantly towards the couch.

"Cross my heart." Tommy replied, sitting down. "Now explain to me why the sexual tension between you two is so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw."

Oliver told him pretty much everything. The horror at the goal post, the ultimatum, the Bugatti, junior prom, New Year's, and last night. He may have skimmed over a few mushy-gushy details (mostly his feelings), but he left nothing important out.

Tommy was quiet for a while after Oliver was done, deep in thought. "Huh, well that's interesting," he finally said. "You're dating Laurel, but you're in love with someone way less hot than she is."

"I never said I loved Felicity," retorted Oliver, blushing.

"You didn't have to. But you did say you love Laurel. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"But you love Felicity more. I don't understand that. You have Laurel. You're _moving in_ with Laurel. But if you could you'd dump her for that weird little plain Jane—"

"Shut up, Tommy," he growled. "Don't you dare make this about the way she looks. There's nothing plain about her."

"Dude," he placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "We date models. Laurel totally fits the description. Felicity is… I mean she's cute but come on. It's like that saying about not going out for a hamburger because you've got a steak at home."

"Did you just call Felicity a hamburger?"

"Look, I'm just saying that she's not exactly worth the trouble. So what if she's nice? Laurel's nice, too. Maybe if you screwed Felicity you'd be able to forget about her. I promise I won't snitch on you. How does that sound?"

Oliver took a long, drawn-out breath. "Tommy, I know you're trying to help and I'd probably tell you the same thing if you were in my position…. But I swear if you don't get your hand of my shoulder I will break your fingers."

His hand flew off and Tommy scooted away as much as possible. "You're very serious about this girl."

"Yes. Worse than that, I _know_ I can't have her. Sneaking around would only work for so long, and then her dad would find out. I can sort of accept not being with her, but being with Laurel makes it worse; I'm dating this great girl, but there's another one I want more—and it's _not_ because I can't have her. After last night, I don't know if I can keep lying to Laurel, and I sure as hell can't move in with her."

Tommy stared at him in shock. "You're going to break up with her?"

"After how well things have been going? I can't do that. She wouldn't accept it, and I definitely couldn't tell her the truth. She'd keep trying to work things out and get back together."

"Then how are you going to do it?"  
"Well, first I'm going to drop out of Harvard, because my being here is a total joke and I haven't done my own homework since my first semester. And then... Well, it'll be messy and she'll completely hate me for it, but it'll work."

* * *

Felicity kept wondering why Oliver hadn't called her yet, which was stupid because they hadn't exchanged phone numbers. It's not like he could see her whenever he wanted, and he did say he was going on the yacht with his dad, which totally had to be where he was right now. It'd been weeks since that night, but she had to be patient.

She was waiting for her American history class to start, wondering what kind of souvenir Oliver would get her when she overheard a group behind her talking.

"Not much of a loss, really."

"Don't be so harsh, Marcus. Anyway, are you sure you got the name right? I thought he was going to Harvard."

"Keyword _was_," said someone else. "He dropped out just before he left."

"Typical spoiled rich boy." sneered Marcus. "At least he died partying. He was on a yacht, and apparently he had a piece of ass with him. His girlfriend's _sister_. Can you believe that?"

Felicity's blood chilled, and she gripped the desk.

The polite one, a girl, retorted. "We don't know that he didn't break up with the girlfriend first. And a storm destroyed the yacht. Does that sound like a party to you?"  
"Why are you defending him, Abby? The guy was an asshole and everyone knows it. His pretty face and trust fund doesn't get him off the hook for that."

Janine, Felicity's roommate, noticed how pale she'd gotten. She leaned over and touched her arm. "Hey, you look like you're about to throw up. What's wrong?"

"Marcus has a point, Abby," said the other one. "He wasn't exactly contributing to society. Didn't you ever see him on the news? All he did was get drunk and go to clubs, and he probably cheated on his girlfriend with way more bimbos than the one he took on the yacht. If someone had to shipwreck, maybe we should be happy it was Oliver Queen."

Felicity's eyes stung as she inhaled sharply. Her vision blurred and then she was sobbing, loudly and painfully, the whole class staring in concern and confusion. Janine put an arm around her shoulders, asking quietly why she was so upset. But Felicity couldn't answer; she could barely think straight. Oliver was dead. He wasn't coming back. He was dead he was dead he was dead, and she wouldn't get more time with him. She shouldn't have listened to her father. She should've looked for Oliver when she got to Cambridge. They could've had years. They could've been really careful, and they could've had years. But she didn't, and he was gone, and he wouldn't get a chance to learn from his mistakes and stop being so selfish and cowardly. He wouldn't get a chance to do anything. He was gone, cold and blue at the bottom of the ocean.

The teacher entered the classroom and saw how inconsolable she was. He ran to help, but the best he could do was assist Janine in getting her stuff and leading her out of the class room.

As Janine walked her into their dorm room, Felicity continued to weep. Then she dashed to her closet and reached for something in the back. Janine watched in bewilderment as she clutched a dark suit jacket to her chest. She flinched as her heartbroken roommate fell to the floor, bawling harder and burying her face in the fabric. Tearing up in sympathy, Janine helped Felicity to her bed, where she curled in a fetal position around the jacket. Then she turned off the light and left.

Hours later, Janine came back to check on her and saw that she had passed out. Insatiably curious, Janine slowly and carefully tugged and pulled the mysterious jacket from her grip. She had seen it in the closet before. Since she had never mentioned a boyfriend, Janine had assumed it was her father's; something to ease the separation anxiety. Had her father died, and she had gotten over the shock while waiting for class to start? Janine looked for any sign of its owner, only to note how expensive it was. She couldn't understand why it had lipstick smears, though. Then she noticed something in Felicity's hand, nearly buried under her side. She gently slid the picture out, but it was too dim to see very well. Janine draped the jacket over Felicity like a blanket and stepped into the lit hallway.

It was a gawky teen and Oliver Queen, posing awkwardly for a pre-dance photo. She knew the girl was Felicity, but still found it hard to believe. If all he ever did was take her to a dance in high school, then why had she cried so hard? Had that only been the beginning? How well had she known him? Perhaps Felicity would be able to tell her after she recovered.

Whatever their relationship, at least someone had cried for Oliver Queen.

* * *

**The night—"Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol**

**The morning—"Collide" by Howie Day**

**The dorm—"Time After Time" cover by Eva Cassidy**

**And I'm gonna throw in the anachronistic "Million Dollar Man" by Lana Del Ray, whether it fits perfectly or not. It's so damn pretty.**


	7. Starling City

**This is the final chapter.**

* * *

Felicity hated parties, and Tommy knew that. But that had rarely stopped him from taking her out for a night on the town in hopes of curing her fiestaphobia. He had only succeeded in getting her drunk once (he said it was _hilarious_) and convincing her that parties were only slightly less horrible than she originally thought. But they still weren't her thing, so she felt awkward and anxious as she sat at the busy bar while a sea of people boogied on the dance floor.

And the circumstances of the party made her even more anxious; this was Oliver's back-from-the-dead party.

Tommy had popped into her office a few days ago with a big stupid grin on his face, and she assumed it had something to do with Laurel. That or he was going to try to take her to a club again. But then he'd said the most impossible thing: Ollie was alive. He'd survived the storm and was found on a deserted island and he was _alive_. And while Tommy went on about the necessity of a welcome-home party, she had stared blankly and nodded at his every suggestion. He'd called her later on to ask if she wanted to go with him to see Ollie at the mansion, but something about that had terrified her. She explained that Ollie's family and best friend should see him first, and she could see him later.

That's when Tommy got the idea to wait until the party. He wanted to make her a big surprise for Ollie, something Felicity didn't understand since she had never been a big part of his life. She saw him five times in four years, and never for more than a few hours. Sure, she adored Ollie, but looking back made it seem silly to assume he'd felt the same way. They'd meshed well together, but she wouldn't delude herself into thinking she was important to him.

But her bestie wouldn't believe it. He kept saying that Ollie cared about her and definitely missed her. She didn't understand where he was getting that from, but he was probably just trying to be positive. Tommy knew how she felt about Ollie.

So he took her shopping. Seriously. Not that he hadn't taken her before, but this time was the most fun. He was encouraging and helpful and picked out a killer dress in her favorite color. It was skimpier than anything she'd ever worn, but damn was it pretty: satin, tight, and short, with a low square neckline and ruching on the sides. And pink. Such a pretty, pretty pink.

The sky-high heels made her just as excited: black leather slingback stilettos with a gathered knot detail at the peep toe. Six-and-a-half inches high with a two-and-a-half inch platform. Oh, and red soles. Those sexy-as-hell Louboutins had a hefty price tag, but Tommy didn't even blink as he paid for her entire ensemble. He enjoyed spoiling her against her will every once in a while.

She was nursing a glass of her favorite red wine and bobbing her head to "Lucky Strike" by Maroon 5 when she spotted Oliver on the second floor with Laurel. Maybe if she'd done as Tommy said and seen Oliver after his theatric greeting, it'd be her up there instead of his ex. But she stood by her decision; let him party for a while before bothering him with a reunion.

A disrespectful douchebag squeezed in next to her and tried to start a conversation. He even dared to put his hand on her lower back. Before she could vituperate him into a whimpering puddle, Tommy yanked the offender away.

"How're you feeling, princess?"

"Tipsy. And like I narrowly avoided a felony. I nearly took off my shoe and stabbed that guy in the throat with it."

Tommy grinned. "I'll make sure not to stop you next time. That would've been awesome." He grabbed her silver clutch and helped her off the bar stool. "You ready?"

She blinked at him, then looked over and saw Oliver descending the stairs.

Her stomach tied up in knots as she was led towards him. "It's getting late. Maybe I should wait and see him tomorrow."

"It's ten o'clock," Tommy argued.

"He looks busy. I think he's heading somewhere."

"From the looks of it, he just went round two with Laurel. He probably just wants a drink."

Felicity swallowed hard as Oliver hit the last step and Tommy called for him.

Heart thumping like a war drum, she froze as Oliver noticed her.

"Remember that surprise I told you about?" Tommy said, beaming. "Well this is—"

"Sorry," apologized Oliver as he looked away, a polite smile on his face. "But I'm in a hurry. Later, okay?"

He strode away quickly before Tommy could get over his shock. When he turned to Felicity, he saw that she was ready to cry.

"He didn't recognize you, that's all." he said gently.

She suddenly felt stupid in her outfit: too awkward, too nerdy, too plain. Tommy spent all that money on her outfit, and Oliver wasn't impressed. "I need a minute,"

Felicity walked off, staring at the ground so she wouldn't fall in her heels. Her vision started to blur as she entered a white back room where the caterers kept their equipment. She carefully wiped at a tear so as not to smudge her cat's eye eyeliner and looked at her reflection in the many stainless-steel cabinets. _This was dumb_, she thought as she took off her heels and hooked her fingers in the straps. _Whether he recognized me or not, he wasn't interested. Even if he had… Why waste his time with dorky little me? As if we ever had enough in common. He was probably just curious, and I bet he's over it now. He's got plenty of friends to party with and a mile-long line of models begging to bed him. And here I am trying to play the part and fit in. _

She pouted her bright-pink lips in annoyance as she strolled slowly down the hallway. At least she had Tommy; they'd been friends since the funeral—

A groan emitted by the gray double doors marked "BALLROOM B". Felicity turned the corner and saw a black man with a bodyguard's build stirring on the floor. Whoever was able to knock _this_ guy out wasn't someone to mess with.

"Are you okay?" she asked, getting on her knees and setting her heels and purse on the floor. "What happened to you?"

He blinked at her and tried to focus. "I'm not sure. I think my client knocked me unconscious."

"Oh, so you are a bodyguard. Well, you didn't confirm anything, I just assumed… 'Cause you totally look like a bodyguard. I mean you're in a suit and you're built like a Mack truck. Like you look like you could stop a tank. Or something. Are you a bodyguard?"

Bewildered and possibly amused, the maybe-bodyguard stared for a moment. "Yes. Are you a Barbie doll? 'Cause you totally look like a Barbie doll."

"No, but sometimes my friend treats me like one. I'm the head of the I.T. Department at Queen Consolidated."

He raised his eyebrows. "Looks can be deceiving."

"Yeah. So does that mean you were being sarcastic before, or…?"

The big, muscly man laughed silently. "No, I really am a bodyguard." He pushed himself up off the floor, then lent her a hand.

"So why would your client knock you out?" she asked as she brushed the dirt from her knees.

"He hates being babysat. That's the best answer I can come up with."

"Maybe he thinks you cramp his style. Not that he should, because you seem like a total badass."

The bodyguard smiled. "Thanks."

"You look like you could strangle a bear. Sorry, I had some wine. There's always a lot of word-vomit when I drink. More than usual, I mean. Anyway, I should probably go home. I don't even like parties, and my night isn't likely to get any better. I was hoping to talk to this guy, but he blew me off."

"What a jerk,"

"I know, right? I haven't seen him in five years and he just brushes me off. Maybe he didn't recognize me, but it still hurt. And look at my outfit! All of this to dazzle him and _nothing_. See those shoes? Those are Louboutins!" She points to her necklace. "And these are real diamonds! I got gussied up only to be pushed aside. Oh wait a minute, I'm babbling. Sorry,"

He shook his head in understanding. "Don't worry about it. Do you want me to get you a cab?"

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile. "My friend would get pissed if I left, though. I'll find a stairwell to hang out in and sort out my self-esteem issues. That's gotta be my problem, right? I'm just being stupid. I'm sure he'll want to see me."

"He'd have to be a pretty bad guy to let those shoes go to waste."

"Exactly!" She clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Bodyguard."

He chuckled. "No problem, Barbie."

Felicity resisted the urge to hum "Barbie Girl" as she padded down the hall, her shoes and clutch purse in hand. When she found the stairs, she climbed each flight until she could see the door leading to the roof. The stairwell was more for maintenance people than guests, all narrow and dimly lit and spooky, but the party was mostly inaudible as she sat on the highest flight. The door to the roof was only a few steps above her, and she contemplated getting out for some fresh air. Instead she sat comfortably on the step and reminded herself how confident Tommy was that Oliver would what to see her, that she _was_ special to him. He missed her and he was going to smile when he saw her and they were gonna hug _so_ hard and nobody could tell them they can't be friends anymore. Yeah.

Felicity switched out her contact lenses for her glasses (thank God she'd brought them with her; the contacts were itchy) because maybe he'd recognize her if she wore glasses. They weren't the same ones from college—they were more rectangular, with black on top and tortoise shell on the bottom—but they still made her look more herself.

The door behind her swung open, and before she could turn to look someone's leg slammed into her back. She cried out in pain, and when she opened her eyes she realized that whoever it was had fallen down the stairs. Forgetting the sting in her shoulder, she hurried down to help to guy who had possibly fallen flat on his face. He was on his belly, meaning she got a good view of the bow and quiver on his back. Well actually, she noticed his incredible ass first, but now was not the appropriate time to ogle. He was struggling to get off the floor between flights when she reached him.

"Hey, did you break anything?" His back was to her, and he was wearing a hood. A dark green one. Actually, _everything_ he wore was green: his bow, his arrows, and his entire leather outfit. It struck Felicity as kinda sexy but mostly it was just weird. Only a crazy person would run around with a bow on their back. And all that leather? Wow. It was damn sexy, but wow.

He pushed himself to his knees and turned to her. She couldn't see his face, only the silhouette of his jaw. His manly jaw. Felicity blushed and wondered if she should be afraid of him.

Nervously, she adjusted her glasses. Then she raised an eyebrow in confusion when he started gawping at her.

"It's the dress, isn't it? Yeah, I like it too. So are you suddenly not in a hurry anymore, weird guy? 'Cause you seem fine and you're kind of just sitting there—"

The weirdo in green pulled her forward with a gloved hand and planted a quick, hot-as-lava, steamy-as-a-sauna, melt-your-insides-and-evaporate-your-blood kiss on her pretty pink lips. For those three insane, blissful seconds, Felicity wondered what the hell was going on but also prayed it wouldn't end too soon.

Then their lips parted with a wonderful wet smack and he dashed down the stairs, leaving her completely discombobulated.

"Aaaand I'm done for the night," she declared as she stood up, wobbling from the weakness in her knees.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…_

Languidly, Felicity opened her eyes and squinted at her clock. Twelve fifty-two A.M. Ugh. Was Tommy sloshed and lost again?

She tumbled out of bed, irritated that he couldn't have come stumbling by _before_ she was deeply asleep. Her previously perfect hair was an untidy heap of blonde chaos as she felt around for her glasses and untangled herself from her sheets.

Felicity let loose a long, loud yawn and she shuffled towards the front door of her apartment. "Tommy," she grumbled sleepily as she undid the chain. "Go be drunk somewhere else. I'm tired."

But it wasn't Tommy.

Oliver Queen was standing there when she opened the door, looking absurdly gorgeous like always. His hair was crew cut instead of that ken-doll hairdo he used to have, and he sported a closely cropped beard. But he still had those baby blues and that sweet smile—

"Hey, Felicity."

She blinked rapidly, embarrassed that she had spaced out. "It's late," she blurted.

"I know," he took a step closer and her heart was in her throat. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you at the party. I was distracted and didn't realize it was you."

"Yeah, I figured," She stepped aside for him to enter, her skin tingling at their proximity. As he continued in, she glimpsed herself in the mirror by the door and rolled her eyes at her epically disheveled state. Too late to primp now.

"Nice place," he complimented as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

She shyly made her way to him, worried by his formality. Why was he being so casual? Where was that big hug she was expecting? "Thanks."

"So, where's Kermit?" he asked curiously.

Felicity smiled, taking it as a good sign. "I have a tortoise now." She pointed to the tank in the living room behind him. "His name's Paperweight."

He laughed and looked over at the terrarium. "Cute. Seems like you haven't changed much."

"I guess not. So do I get a hug, or...?"

Oliver shifted uncomfortably. "It's great seeing you again, but I think that we should um… remember the lengths your father went to. To keep us apart."

"Oh, I remember," she replied with a hint of ire. At least she knew Oliver cared, though.

"He's a smart man. He had me all figured out."

"I'm not blind to your flaws, Oliver."

"No, you accept them." He gave her a small, mirthless smile. "But doesn't mean I won't end up hurting you. Your dad knew that. I think it'd be best if we avoided each other. I'm just going to hurt you like I hurt Laurel."

Felicity crossed her arms, her jaw tight. "And you don't think I can take an emotional hit?"

"You shouldn't have to."

"Like staying away from you isn't going to hurt? Every time I've seen you, I've thought it was the last time. I've lost you over and over again, and then you _died_. And now that you're back, you think I'm just gonna stay away? I never got enough time with you, Ollie. As if I'm going to waste your return from the dead."

Oliver leaned in, and Felicity shrank back slightly. "What makes you think I'm the same person?"

"Absolutely nothing. Oliver Queen couldn't spend five years fighting to survive on an island and _not_ change."

"Then why bother?"

"Because you're still you."

He let out a humorless laugh. "Which means what, exactly? Felicity, that island didn't make me a better person; it made me worse. Sure I'm not spoiled anymore, and being spineless would've gotten me killed, but I'm still selfish. "

"Then why push me away for my own safety?"

He scowled. She had him there. "You'd get sick of me real quick."

"Doubt it."

"I'm empty. I don't know how to enjoy anything anymore."

"We can work on that."

"I'm emotionally crippled."

"Most men are."

Oliver smacked the countertop, making her flinch. "Dammit, Felicity! I'm not worth the trouble! You don't realize what you're dealing with!"

She stared at him with her sad gray-green eyes. "I don't care if that island hollowed you out and carved you up like a jack-o-lantern, Ollie. I'm not giving you up."

"Oh, it carved me up, alright." He shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, letting both fall to the floor. Felicity gasped, her eyes wide and wet. So many scars… She timidly reached out and brushed her fingertips along the raised pink line slashed across his abs. The wound must have been so deep…

He wrenched her hand away, his grip tight. "Do you know what happens to a wounded animal? It gets mean. Do you really want to be around a wounded animal, Felicity?"

"You're not an animal, though." She argued weakly. "At least you weren't before…"

"But I am now. Can't you tell?"

His grip on her hand was getting painful, making her wince as their eyes met. There was something dim and lifeless about them; they somehow reminded her of a shark's eyes.

She clenched her jaw. "You don't scare me."

With a disturbing amount of strength, Oliver picked her up and set her on the countertop, the back of her head hitting a cabinet. "I should."

As she rubbed at the sore spot, her heart began to thump like a frightened baby rabbit's. Whatever Oliver used to be, he was clearly dangerous now. All those cold nights huddled in a cave, every attack, every sure moment that he was about to die alone had turned him into the feral beast in front of her. The Ollie that came through her door minutes ago was just a mask, a front to convince people he was fine.

"You're hurting me so I'll stay away so you won't hurt me. That's an ironic strategy." She tried to sound unaffected, but her voice still quavered.

He swallowed, and for a second she saw how sorry he was. Then his shell hardened and the beast was back. "I don't want a squeaky little mouse following me around."

Felicity almost smacked him. It's not like he couldn't have taken it, judging by all his gruesome scars. But he'd probably had enough violence on that island, so instead she gently took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead.

He meant to glare at her, but it was more of a petulant pout. "Let go of me,"

She ignored him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. His lip trembled, and he was glad she couldn't see. "I said get off of me, Felicity. Now."

Despite his rumbling tone, she didn't budge. "I still love you, Ollie. I'll always love you."

Tears threatened to run down his cheeks. "You're really pissing me off, Felicity."

She pulled back to look him in the eye. A traitorous tear escaped and her thumb wiped it away. "I love you."

"Stop saying that." he growled, his voice breaking.

"Okay," Her fingers swept through his short hair. "I'm still thinking it, though."

"Well, _stop_," He smacked her hand away. "I don't deserve it. If you knew what I've done—"

"You don't need to deserve love to get it, dumbass." she snapped. "And don't give me any of that self-loathing crap. I know what it's like to feel low and alone and I refuse to let you feel that way. I don't care what you did to survive on that island and I don't care what you've become. I've missed you and I love you and I'm here for you, so deal with it."

Oliver's hands slid up her thighs, her skin gooseprickling. "Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh," she choked out, her face bright red. "Whatever you need."

"I can think of something I haven't had in a while…" His thumb ran slowly from the inside of her knee and stopped when she gasped. "Didn't you say you love me?"  
"I… meant it platonically. Otherwise I would've kissed you on the lips."

Her shallow breathing made his heart race. He drew closer, their bodies skimming. Their lips very nearly touched, and he could feel the electricity between them. Then she whimpered, a low sweet sound, and he was on her like a wolf on a rabbit. His lips went to her soft neck first as his arms wrapped around her. She did the same, humming against his skin when he settled on her pulse. Then their mouths met, their tongues teasing and their lips pressing and parting.

After a few minutes, Felicity pushed away to catch her breath. "Okay, so I didn't mean it platonically. Like, at all. I meant it in the romantic I-want-to-have-sex-with-you-right-now kind of way. Why are you laughing at me?"

"Your glasses are fogged up," he answered.

"Oh. Right." She took them off and cleaned the lenses with the hem of her baggy shirt. When she put them back on, she looked him bravely in the eye. "So, is this heading in a fun direction or are you about to leave? Also, I thought you said you can't enjoy anything anymore?"

"You're an exception. I've been waiting to do that for nine years."

"Ah—Wait, _nine_ years? Five I can believe, but since high school? Seriously?"

He smirked and quirked his eyebrows up, then went to work on her neck again. She moaned in response and clung to him tightly, loving the feel of his short beard on her skin.

"Can you be more specific?"

"The Bugatti, maybe. Or prom."

"That early? Wow, I missed out on a lot of opportunities to be fondled."

"To be honest, you didn't have much to fondle back then." he mumbled against her neck.

She almost got offended, but then realized he was right. "Yeah," she admitted.

"Speaking of fondling," His hand squeezed her breast, and she yelped and giggled.

"Shouldn't we move this to the bedroom before we defile my kitchen counter?"

Oliver looked up in confusion. "How far do you think I'm planning to go?"

"…Um…"

"I know we've waited a while, but it sounds like you want to go really fast—" _RRRIIIP! _His hands had slipped to her back and bunched her shirt in his fists, then tore the fabric like it was tissue paper. She gasped and covered her breasts with her arms, her hands by her face.

Felicity gawked at the remains on the floor. "_That was awesome."_ she said reverently. Her eyes locked with his. "This is going to be amazing, isn't it?"

Oliver didn't answer; instead he gazed at her pink metal bellybutton ring and the green snake head on her hipbone. His thumb rubbed what he could see of the tattoo. "Have you gotten any more?"

Felicity gulped at the contact. A bright blush settled in her cheeks. "One more,"

"Where is it?" Her bashfulness was making him more curious.

She bit her lip as she gingerly pushed him back and hopped off the counter. When her back was to him, he scanned her skin.

"All I see is Snugglesnake." he said.

"Look at the scales,"

His fingers pulled the band of her shorts down until he could see the entire tattoo. He squinted in concentration at the tiny green scales and saw that some of them were much darker than the rest. They made inconsistent patterns, lines and loops and curves… then he saw it. O…l…i…v…e…r… His name was hidden in the twists and turns of the snake.

"I got it a month after the funeral," she said, covering her chest with her arms again. "Part of my grieving process, I guess. Not as easy to lose as your jacket or our picture, you know? Not that I lost them; they're still in my closet. That's not weird, is it?"

He snaked his arms around her waist and cuddled her close. "No. Why do you think I read those books?"

Felicity sighed happily. "I'd wondered about that. Didn't think you were much of a reader."

"I'm not," he swept her messy hair off her shoulder and rested his chin there. "I just wanted to feel closer to you."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. Then she was silent for a moment, a reluctant question on her tongue. "Um… If you don't mind my asking, why did you come back from a deserted island with tattoos? I don't want to bring up bad memories, I just… it's weird."

"I don't think you've seen the one on my shoulder."

He was obviously avoiding the question, but she didn't mind. She turned around and so did he, giving her a good view of his dragon tattoo on his back… and more of his scars. She frowned at them distressingly then returned her attention to the dragon head.

"It's red and black, like Drogon." she commented.

He laughed quietly. "It's not Drogon, though."

"No, I didn't think it was. It's still really cool." She turned him around, and her arms covered her chest again. He found her shyness adorable and slightly arousing. "I like the Chinese characters too, but my favorite is the star on your chest. It's pretty."

He found that amusing; the eight-pointed star marked him as a captain in the Russian mob.

"Also, um…" she continued nervously. "Have you always been this superhumanly ripped? Did you bench press boulders to pass the time? Because I'm pretty sure I could bounce a quarter off your pecs and do laundry on your abs."

Raising an eyebrow, he examined his torso. "Are you sure you're not exaggerating?"

She punched his drum-tight stomach. He barely felt it. "Baby, you're a brick wall."

"Did you just call me 'baby'?"

"Would you prefer 'Pollywog'?"

"Not in public." His hands went to her waist, and suddenly she was sitting on the countertop again. Her thighs quivered in anticipation when she saw the look in his eyes. Nine years of pent-up erotic tension crackled between them; Felicity sure hoped her apartment could weather the inevitable sexplosion.

He moved closer and made to kiss her, but pressed his lips to her forehead at the last second. Then he stepped away and picked his shirt and jacket up off the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he put his shirt on.

"It's late," he answered. "You should get back to sleep."

She sulked. "But…"

"We have time now. We should take it slow." Oliver said, delighting in her angry pout. "I'll see you around."

He'd expected her to yell at him, but instead she crossed her arms over her chest to better cover herself. "Can I at least get a goodbye kiss?" she asked coyly.

She was too cute to deny. He strode over and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. "I've missed you too." he murmured by her ear. Then he lifted her chin and kissed her nose. "And I love you."

Dazed, she shamelessly checked him out as he walked to the door. He turned back and gave her one last hungry, promising look before leaving.

When the door shut, she continued to sit there. All in all, she'd had a very strange night. First Oliver was too busy to see her, then she ran into that crazy green guy and he knocked her socks off with that mind-blowing lip lock, then Oliver tried to scare her off and showed her his scars and confessed his love via tonsil hockey and fondlefest and actual words…

Felicity looked around and finally understood. "Whoa," she breathed, adjusting her glasses. "I'm in trouble."

* * *

**I hope this ending is satisfying, because I'd been wringing my hands over this. And about the revelation in the last line… As if Felicity hadn't figured it out in the third episode and decided to keep her mouth shut. It was so **_**obvious.**_

** Thank you, readers! You're awesome!**

**And please review! I love reading reviews.**


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